The Twelve Years of Frostmas
by SafyreSky
Summary: Nobody but he and I knew the truth. Jack wasn't supposed to be Santa; I wasn't supposed to be Jack Frost. He thought being Santa would fix everything; he was horribly, horribly mistaken. [Major OC's. My take on Jack Frost as Santa during the Escape Clause]
1. Prologue

Have you ever been burdened by something so tremendous, so mindboggling huge with all these out of place things and—I already don't make sense, for frosts sake.

Okay. Let's start with an easier opening.

My name is Jacqueline Frost. My story—is long. Very long. It's like a soap opera, actually. Though it's been a few years since the soap opera concluded—on a happy note, to say the least. My family is close as can be, once more. The people of Crystal Springs respect myself and the other Legates, finally. And most importantly of all, I have my big brother back for good.

But see, that's just it.

My _brother_.

He's mostly the cause of the soap opera, to be honest.

I actually told him this the other day. Of course, being the self-absorbed stuck up snowdiva he is, he took it as a complete compliment.

No Jack. It wasn't intended that way, you—I'm getting off topic.

For a long time (like centuries long), Jack had completely cut ties with us; he left the family to go and gain more recognition and power. His ultimate goal: upstage Santa Claus.

You see, my brother, Jack Frost, was born with a frozen heart—cursed, as we learned a few years back. So he had a wee bit of an evil disposition. So much devastation and hurt was caused because of his jealousy and resentment—he had worked really hard to get himself a Legendary name and suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, jolly old St Nick is bringing joy to all the girls and boys on one of the most sacred days of the mortal year (well those mortals who celebrate Christmas. I'm not gonna get into mortal religions because the truth is, every religion is real for magical folk like myself—and often times the figureheads can be a bit of a pain. Zeus—need I say more? A lot of these 'Creators' tend to be a little bit on the sassy side if you ask me. Anyway, mortals, for some odd reason, don't seem to realize that every religion is true, though it's _super_ obvious, really). And where does that day fall? Wham bam smack center of winter—which, of course, is Jack's time of the year.

Now you can see why his ultimate goal was to upstage Santa—in his then cursed eyes, that fame and glory Santa had was meant to be his.

I know what you're thinking, now; Jack never succeeded though, Jacqueline…did he?

And the answer to that question is more complicated than you will ever know. But to put it simply: yes, he did succeed.

But nobody remembers. Nobody but Jack…and me.

For years, memories of the alternate timeline have bothered me like you wouldn't believe. It was just so…bad. This is why I'm writing this now. The same day I had the soap opera conversation with Jack, I brought up the other timeline with him. The conversation went a little like this…

"I'm not a diva," Jack had said, after my comment. "I like to keep people on their toes," he began, crossing one leg over the other, hands clasped around the knee.

I rolled my eyes, and shoving the book he was reading off the opposite chair, took a seat.

It was silent for a bit—comfortable though—before Jack (of course) broke it.

"I know you came here for another reason, you know…not just to accuse me of being a diva."

"I don't need to accuse, you already pleaded guilty."

He shrugged, grinning. "What can I say." He winked. I rolled my eyes. Again. At the rate I was going, eye roll wise, I was gonna turn into mom.

"Now come on. What's bothering you?"

"How'd you know I was coming to be serious?"

Jack didn't say anything. He just tapped his head knowingly.

"Oh. The connection. Snooper. And you say _I_ don't know what privacy is…"

"Come now, little flurry, out with it."

I sighed. "Do you remember the timeline when you were Santa?"

His face fell. I hadn't seen him this hurt and disturbed since I reunited with him up North however many years ago it was.

"How can I forget it?" he began. "If there is one thing that I will never forgive myself for, aside form leaving you, Jacqueline, it is what I did to everyone during those awful twelve years. All the trouble I put the elves through…the Legendaries…the people…mom…dad…and you, Jacqueline. Oh, gods. I will never allow myself to forget that timeline."

"I remember it still, too."

"Well, that's—that's pretty unfortunate."

"Yeah. For both of us."

"Yeah. I've looked, but there's no way we could possibly make ourselves forget it. Amnesia dust is never reliable for long term things."

"Midnight told me the same thing," I said, sighing. "I can't…I can't stop thinking about it, Jack. I can't sit here knowing it's just us who remember the timeline. I want to get it out of my head…"

"I think I see where this is going."

I blushed. "I just know writing it all out will help me. But what I wanted to know, was if—"

"It would help me. If I'd be okay with it," he finished for me.

I nodded. "I wouldn't publish it, or anything. I just want to write it down and then I think archive it," I supplied. I stared out the window, at the blooming backyard. "I just want it out of my head."

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment. It was kind of scary. I didn't reach out to read his thoughts because I didn't want to know what he was thinking right now. I know how much he regretted that timeline, and how bad it made him feel—especially since of all the people to remember it aside from him, it _had_ to be his little sister.

And this will sound totally self-centered but it's true—Jack's one big regret is how badly he treated me, and how much he hurt me. All of us, really—but for some odd reason, he tends to dwell on how his actions impacted me the most. (I've never asked him why…I don't think I want to know his reasoning. He gets really deep really randomly despite his debutante personality and self-centered tendencies).

Finally, he looked at me.

"I think it's a good idea," he said. Getting up, he went to his book case and pulled a small, brown book off the shelf. The bookcase moved, turning around into our secret library—moments later, he came out with a large, old tome.

"What's that?"

"I grabbed it from Old Frost Castle when I went to find dad the New Years Eve after the Deliquesce thing. Grandma Frost used it for really ancient warlock magic—before warlocks focused mostly on potion making."

I grabbed it from him, flipping through the stained pages. Spells, incantations and curses written in the ancient languages covered the pages—diagrams ranging from weird to downright terrifying accompanying some. Jack lifted a finger; with a twirl, the pages flipped at his command, opening on a specific set of pages. A diagram depicting a warlock writing was on one side. A trail of golden magic dust was painted onto the drawing—it stretched from his head, down his arm, and around the quill.

"This incantation allows the user to put all their memories on paper—and should they choose to, they can forget the whole thing once it's been written down."

I read through the ancient language—my ancient Greek and Latin translating was terrible, though I made sense of it.

"So if you want to, you can forget everything after you write it down. If you choose, when you re-read the piece, you can recall the memories. It wont get rid of them…it just kind of locks them up, you know?"

I blinked, staring at the faded pages.

"But what about you? You'll still remember everything," I said, sadly.

I heard him get up from the chair, his footsteps soft on the plush area rug. His finger under my chin, he tilted my face up, so I was looking right at his identical icy blue eyes.

"Don't get all mushy on me, Jacqueline," he said, the pad of his thumb wiping the tear from my eye. "I've lived with these memories for years, slushy. I've…come to terms with it. In a sense. I still feel tremendous amounts of regret and I know there's nothing I could do to make it up to you. There's no amount of snowball fights, trips to Gstaad, or victories at Elemental Ball that could ever, _ever_ make up for all the things I put you through. But I can deal with those memories with little things—seeing Mother smile, making sure Dad doesn't fall of the roof or slip into the lake again, help him with running the town…I can babysit the twins every so often, let them scorch me as much as they want, because it's all these little things that help me cope with what I've done."

I sniffled. I knew my face was turning red with the effort to not cry. (I'm such an emotional wreck whenever Jack gets all mushy on _me_—those random deep moments I mentioned before).

"Little things like this," he said, tapping the spell in the book, "are the things I can do for you, Jacquie, to help make up for everything I put you through."

He offered his hand to me, standing up. Closing the book and tucking it snugly under my arm, I took his hand and pulled myself off the couch.

"Write it down, Jacqueline. Write it down and use this spell, and then, once you archive it and forget it—to an extent—you can rest easier. _I_ can rest easier knowing you're not as hurt as before."

I wiped my eyes on the back of my long sleeve, sniffling again.

"Thank you, Jack," I said, leaning against his front, the book between us.

"You're welcome, Jacqueline," he replied, hugging me.

He let go, and, with a nod, I wound my way around the sleek leather couches in his sitting room and went to the door.

"Just one more thing, Jacqueline."

I turned back, and raised my eyebrow.

"Don't sugar coat my reign of terror," he said, hands in his pockets, his usual air of confidence returning.

"I wouldn't dream of it, frosty," I replied, running out of his room before he could call me out on the nick name usage. (He doesn't like to be called frosty, I don't like to be called slushy. He calls me slushy, though, and I get to call him frosty. _Then_ we're even.)

So now, reader, here we are. I'm in my room, a huge roll of magical parchment on my desk, my pen ready to write and the spell in place, to help me forget—if I choose so. And it was a _hard_ spell (our warlock blood is very thin). I've talked to a lot of people to get these snippets right, so…here goes everything, I guess.

Now here we go, back to the beginning of the time Jack became Santa.

Year one of what I like to call the Twelve Years of Frostmas.

* * *

**A/N-I'm back! I'm gonna try to keep this AN short and sweet because my ANs back in CS were so long they added, in total, nearly 6,000 words (or more) to the full word count :)**

**So yes, this is planned out to be (not including this prologue which was originally part of the fi****rst chapter but it's almost past 5,000 words sooo yeah) 12 chapters, each one a synopsis of the year in the alternate timeline. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a WHILE so here we go! My take on Jack's Reign as Santa...*dramatic music plays in the distance***

**The white box is right there for your essay/review/comments/thoughts/ideas/smiley faces/what have yous! **

**(AND AS A PS I've been SUPER BUSY so I've been terrible with reviewing and what not, but I will finally be less busy in like a week or so and will be back to my reviewing antics and what have ye)**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER**

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost. Any resemblance she may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use her or any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****


	2. Year One

**Year One**

Jack grinned, watching the current Santa's face fall as the coat—warm and snug—hugged _him_, Jack Frost—and the golden sparks surrounded _him_, teleporting him off to a reality where his one life long dream would finally come true.

He laughed aloud as the snowy outdoors scene disappeared; he reappeared in Santa's sleigh—_his_ sleigh now, the moment it began to descend after the whole gift giving thing. H_ow convenient,_ he thought—though why was he teleported to this point, specifically?

But as soon as the warmth from the workshop began to encompass him, the thought dissipated with the chill from outside.

He grinned, watching from the sled; the elves scurried about, trying to sneak a peek at the new Santa. If he recalled correctly, this year the elves had planned to get rid of their current Santa—whether it was mutual between Bean-head and the old Santa or not, Jack wasn't sure.

Ah yes, _B__ean-head_…

Jack grinned, watching the head elf approach the landing section and lean against one of the pillars. Bernard had yet to see the new Santa…and he looked _much _too confident.

_Time to have a little fun_, Jack thought.

"Hello down there, Bernie! How's it going?" Jack said, boisterously waving.

"Frost?" the elves around the sled froze, staring at one another—all thinking the same thought: _this wasn't the plan…_

"You there, little elf girl, fetch me that stool," Jack barked. A young auburn elf ran to the nearest step stool as fast as her little legs could carry her, placing it down in front of the frosty sprite.

"Thank you, thank you…Bernie, no need to act so surprised!"

"_Don't_ call me Bernie," the curly-haired elf snapped, awkwardly speed walking to Jack. "_What_ are you doing in the coat?"

"I'm Santa, what do you _think_ I'm doing in the coat?"

"You _know_ what I mean, Frost!"

"Now is that any way to treat your new boss?"

Bernard glared, his sparkling face slowly turning redder.

"Oh fine, I'll answer your question—as _idiotic_ as it is…"

The head elf huffed, stomping into the main hub of the workshop.

"You see," Jack said, following behind leisurely, "I was wandering around the streets of suburban Lakeside, Illinois, spreading my frosty cheer and what have you—"

"Oh, I'm _sure_…"

"—I'm going to ignore that comment—and as I'm wandering down one of my favourite streets, I see someone on the roof of a house! So naturally, I called up to him—I couldn;t let someone get robbed on _Christmas Eve!_ I startled him, and he fell. I was shocked and-and _appalled_ to see that as the man hit the ground, it was none other than Santa! Bernard, I was _devastated_."

"I'm sure you were so, _so_ upset. You didn't even think that it might be SAnta Claus?"

"Truly, I'm devastated! The thought had not occurred to me, no. It was fairly late after all, I figured he must have be done Illinois by then! And then, he just disappeared! And left the coat in the snow! I didn't see anyone else claiming it and so, I put the jacket on," Jack said, nearly crashing into Bernard who had stopped right in his tracks.

"Don't give me that look, Bernie. It was for the greater good!"

"The greater good?"

"Yes."

Bernard huffed, marching through the main floor and out to the hallway.

"Slow down there, Bernard! I can't keep up with you elves…"

"Something about this is _not_ right," Bernard said.

Jack paled. "No, this is all just as it should be. Who better to be the next Santa than me? Why, I hail the season! It makes perfect sense."

"No, no it _doesn't_." he marched into Santa's Quarters, rummaging around the desk.

"What are you doing?"

"There are so many things wrong with this picture. Right here. This one," Bernard said, stopping his rummaging and framing his view of Jack with his index finger and thumb. A frosty sprite pouted, the red jacket five sizes too big and hanging off of his lanky frame.

"This isn't _right_. A Legendary can't take another Legendary Figure's place and I'm calling an emergency Council meeting _right this second_," he finished, finally finding a small bell in one of the drawers.

"Like that'll do _anything_," Jack scoffed, taking a seat and putting his feet up.

"The Council will know what to do," Bernard thought aloud, hoping that this wasn't happening, that this _couldn't_ happen, as he began ringing the bell.

* * *

I woke up with a start that Christmas, gasping for breath.

Something was _not_ right. Something was _very_ not right and I didn't know what it was.

I frowned, rolling out of bed and finding my dress. Changing, I tried to remember what happened in the past week…Mother Nature had given us bad Jack related news, as was usual. He had messed up the ecosystem everywhere, as per the norm. Instead of getting Winter's help, though, as she had originally intended, Grandmother recruited the twins and I as well, and had given us our MELTs early.

That night she had fixed our family—we all told her our deepest, darkest secrets and hidden feelings; and, like she does, she balanced us out and helped to mend the fraying blanket that was our family. Sliding into the bathroom and freezing my hair, I tried to recall anything out of the ordinary—I had seen Elle and Bernard after the backyard barbecue we had, celebrating our successful MELTs and newfound dynamic. It took me a while to work up the courage to stop hiding and face my friend, but it had all worked out in the end.

So everything seemed pretty great right now, I thought, smoothing out the wrinkles in my long blue skirt, adjusting the icicle corset and straightening the illusion neckline. With a final poke of my poufy sleeves (gotta keep them extra poufy, you know) and shaking my arms a bit to straighten out the long wide sleeves they turned into, I headed downstairs.

I slid into the kitchen, still feeling off.

"Morning!" I said, taking my seat at the table.

"Good Morning," my mother said, averting her eyes, and _that's_ when it hit me.

The family dynamic was totally screwed up.

It was as if all the work we had done, guided by Mother Nature, had flown out the window. Mom's aura of sadness and fear was back, her face sad—as usual. Dad sat at the head of the table reading the newspaper, his fiery head a blaze. He glanced at his wife, sadness in the pits of his amber eyes.

The only thing not wrong was the twins—they were bouncing in their chairs, throwing sausages at each other and burning their bacon before shovelling it down their mouths.

"What's wrong with everyone?" I asked, confused.

My dad raised an eyebrow, staring at me.

"What do you mean, Jacqueline?"

I frowned. I glanced at the calendar on the icebox, and gasped—1994? —I rubbed my eyes, staring at the calendar again.

"What in the name of winter?"

"Don't use your mother's name in vain," my dad said, staring at me—slightly concerned.

"Sorry. Is it—is that the right year?" I asked pointing at the calendar.

"Duh," Fiera said, her hair searing a tater tot Fino threw her way.

"It's been 1994 like all year," Fino added.

"That's…no, that's not right! It was literally just 2006 yesterday!"

"No it wasn't," Fino said.

"Yes, it was! Didn't Mother Nature swing by a few days ago? And we got our MELTs early, we had to fix some unbalanced weather for Grandmother and—"

"The past few days have been just like every other week," Blaise said, his newspaper now folded on the table. Concern danced about his features, his eyes fixed on my extremely confused face.

"That sounds like a crazy dream."

"It wasn't a dream and it _wasn't_ just like every other week! It happened, Fiera! It snowed in the Amazon and I had to move it, and then you and Fino had to unfreeze a volcano—"

"I changed my mind, that sounds like THE COOLEST DREAM EVER," Fiera shouted.

"I wonder how we would unfreeze a volcano," Fino pondered.

"Okay, wait, wait, _wait,_" I insisted. "Mother Nature didn't visit us?"

"No," Mom mumbled, her back still towards me—though she had stopped what she was doing at the counter, her face whiter than snow. "Not since three months ago."

"Okay, what about Bernard? Did he and Elle stop by?"

"Who's Elle?" Fiera asked.

_"What do you mean who's Elle?!"_ I shouted, standing up from my chair. I was so confused—something wasn't right, we had travelled back in time and nothing I remember happening for the past two weeks had happened and why did nobody _understand_—

"Jacqueline, are you okay?" My mom cut me off, staring at me—fearfully.

"I'm…fine…I need to go visit Grandmother," I said, and with that, I ran out of the kitchen and to the front hall.

"Jacqueline, wait!" Dad shouted.

"Are you gonna finish your sausage!?" Fiera shouted.

"I'll be back later!"

"Well, the sausage is fair game then," Blaise said.

"What about her presents?"

"Don't touch those!" I shouted back, reaching the door. "I'll be back!"

I needed to talk to someone who knew what was happening and since getting to the Timeless Realm was nigh impossible without the assistance of the Time Keepers, Mother Nature's Garden would have to do.

As soon as I stepped out onto the veranda, I thought of the Quartz Forest, the pink magical doorway to Mother Nature's Garden, visualizing the place, and teleported out of Frost Mansion in a flurry of snowflakes and blue sparks.

I needed answers.

* * *

I reappeared directly in front of the portal. As soon as I felt all my particles return to me, I stepped through the swirling pink depths. Briefly I was engulfed by a spiraling vortex before I found myself inside the vast garden Mother Nature called home.

The entrance was between two large hornbeam trees. On this side of the Garden, you couldn't see the pink vortex. You walked through the arch the two trees formed and suddenly, it's Quartz Forest. I was surrounded by a canopy of leafy green, a small stream of water trickling by, sparkling in the bits of sunlight that broke through the leafy barrier.

"Mother Nature!" I shouted, out into the vast expanses of the garden. "Grandmother!"

I hopped over the stream, making my way into another one of her many gardens—lilacs surrounded me, a stone pathway leading to several portions of the garden.

"Okay, _focus_ Jacqueline," I said aloud. If anything, Mother Nature would probably be in her kitchen, or on the patio having tea to the side of the kitchen. Taking the chance, I took the path between the middle and far left, and ran, calling for my grandmother.

"Jacqueline, sweetheart, whatever is the matter?" She said. I almost slammed into her—she had met me halfway on the path to her greenhouse. She held my shoulders gently, her green eyes eyeing me carefully.

"Something is wrong something is _very_ wrong everything is off kilter and I think I'm going insane—"

"Calm down dear!" She said, her dark face concerned. "Something is wrong and you are quite correct," she said.

"Oh thank gods, you know that the year is wrong and stuff?"

"Good heavens, what are you talking about? There's nothing off with the time stream. The North Pole is in chaos. Well, not exactly…but things aren't quite right."

I paled. Anything wrong up North usually, about half the time, had to do with my brother.

"Did Jack muck up Christmas?"

"I'm afraid it is far worse," Mother Nature said. "Jack has become the next Santa."

I gasped. "That can't be right! He's not supposed to be Santa!"

"Exactly," Mother Nature said, steering me towards her patio. Sure enough, tea was out on the small table, papers strewn about.

I didn't think she understood exactly what I was saying—Jack wasn't Santa. The current Santa's name—before being Santa—was Scott. But rather than plead my case (I'm sure my family already thought I was going insane, I didn't need to add Grandmother to the mix), I decided to follow her, and get more information before deciding what to do next.

"Bernard called an emergency council meeting the moment Jack arrived in the coat. I've been reading over the clause all day, immersed myself into the Santa Handbook, the Code…but it looks like there's no way to break the contract without…you know…"

"The accident or design thing. Right."

Mother Nature sighed, plopping down into her chair. "I fear Father Time was right. Jack will be Santa—there's no way out. Unfortunately, that leaves us without a Jack Frost."

She looked up at me, conflicted.

"Jacqueline, you need to come back to the reconvening with me. Since Jack must be Santa...the Legate Law must be acted upon."

I paled. I was shocked, stunned even—this was something I never thought would happen to me; not in my nineteen hundred and thirteen—or rather, nineteen hundred, what with this weird time lapse thing that was happening with me right now—years of life.

"It is the Law," she said, wisely.

"I know," I replied. "Every immortal that has acquired a Mythical or Legendary status must have a second in command, a Legate, to step in should anything happen to the Legend in question."

I knew the law word for word—growing up, being a Legate was a huge part of my identity (it still is, even to the present day I'm writing this in). It was branded into my brain.

Grandmother nodded. "Since Jack Frost is now Santa…well, you know what we must do. Come along now, Jacqueline; the reconvening is about to start."

Gently holding my shoulder, Mother Nature closed her eyes and engulfing us in a bright light, teleported to the North Pole.

* * *

"I now call this session of the Council reconvened," Mother Nature said, smacking the gavel.

"Good," Bernard said.

"_Great_," Jack said, grinning. "So Mother N, how'd your search go, hmm? Find your loophole?"

"Unfortunately," Mother Nature began, "There is nothing in the books that say this can't be happening. Jack is very much Santa now."

A collective groan rang out from the Council; Bernard smacked his head against the table. In fact, the only happy person was Jack, who childishly whooped, fist pumping. I sighed heavily from my spot in the background (a bunch of snow on the windowsill, specifically).

"However," Mother Nature began. "This does not excuse Jack from any of his past actions. He will be expected to uphold every value, every tradition that every Santa has held, from Kris Kringle and Saint Nicholas' first Clause to this past Santa who is no longer with us."

"Oh, I will Mother Nature, I swear it!" Jack said, earnestly.

"Mother Nature, there's gotta be something you can do, anything—"

"Unfortunately Bernard, there isn't. Jack will be expected to pick up his Santa duties this November. He will, however, have to listen and report to you, Bernard."

"What? But he's not Santa, I am!"

"No, he is not. But he has centuries more experience than you do, Jack. And he will be our liaison. He'll report to us if you so much as step one toe out of line."

"Alright, alright. Chill. I'll behave, I'll be a great Santa and take care of my usual responsibilities, of course."

"No you won't."

"What?"

"You won't be Jack Frost anymore," Father Time said.

"What do you mean? It's my _name!_ I _am _Jack Frost. _And_ Santa."

Time sighed, sharing a look with Mother Nature.

"You cannot be two Legendary Figures at once, Jack."

Understanding dawned on Jack's face.

"Wait, so now that I'm Santa…I can't be Jack Frost? As in, the myth?"

"Nope," Sandy said.

"Not at all," Cupid added.

"Can't do both," Tooth said.

"At all?"

"At all," Bunny finished, having felt left out.

"But I _made_ those myths! I _am_ those myths!"

"These were your choices, Frost. Become Santa and forfeit your legacy for his, it's plain and simple," Bernard said.

"But then—who will take care of the snow? The frost the-the ice, the whole _season_—?"

"Not like you did a good job of it in the first place," Bunny mumbled.

Jack glared.

"Why, Jack Frost. The next Jack Frost," Mother Nature said.

"What?"

"We enact the Legate Law, duh."

"Thank you Cupid," Mother Nature said.

"Wait, so you mean that Jacqueline—"

"Do you have a problem with that, brother?" I snapped, materializing behind him.

It was almost worth it to see the look of surprise and utter shock on his face, as well as the barely disguised laughs from the more immature council members—and the huge grin on Bernard's face.

"I…I…Jacqueline?"

"Who'd you expect, Frosty the Snowman?"

"I…"

He was positively speechless and it was great. I grinned impishly, sitting down in his seat.

"That's my seat," he said, still bewildered. Thank the gods I had had some time to check myself before I materialized. Otherwise, I'd probably be just as bumbling as he was at that moment.

"Not anymore," I replied.

"She's right," Cupid said.

"Shut up," Jack said.

"Thanks, Cupid," I grinned.

"Alright, enough," Mother Nature said, half halfheartedly. "Faced with the situation at hand, we have come to the only conclusion possible, Jack Frost, you will be the next Santa Claus. Jacqueline, you will be the next Jack Frost. Normally I'd ask all in favour and all opposed, but I am well aware of the feelings of the council and unfortunately, we have no choice in the matter. So, regrettably…motion carried and meeting adjourned," she finished.

And with a final smack of the gavel, our fates were sealed.

Jack was Santa.

And I was Jack Frost.

* * *

**A/N: (Dec. 12, 2016) I Did a little bit of an edit of this first chapter! I figured out Jacqueline's solid age so I fixed that and got rid of a few phrases that didn't sit well with me, along with some small grammar and syntax edits. Needless to say, I hope you enjoy Frostmas. The plot bunny that started as "Who was Jack Frost when Jack Frost was Santa?" has become a full blown story. It does have a heavy focus on Jacqueline, but she offers the look into how Jack got the Pole from how we know it to how we saw it at the end of TSC 3. I hope you enjoy it! I'll probably edit the other chpters over the New Year, and get rid of the lengthy author's notes and make em short and sweet. Do drop a line, and tell me what you thought!**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER**

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost. Any resemblance she may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use her or any of my characters without MY permission. The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.**


	3. Year Two

**Year Two**

The rest of the year, after that fateful evening, passed relatively uneventfully. Well, if you could call it that. Jack's transformation was tame—though he was not amused with his rapid weight gain and made it clear throughout the Pole. He surprised everyone really—he did as he was told and he went out in the sleigh the night of and delivered the gifts.

As for me, I traveled the world, doing my new found duties. I've been living in Crystal Springs for nearly three centuries—seeing how different everything was in the span of some three hundred years was mind boggling, but a lot of fun.

Unluckily for me, I had to report back to the Pole quite frequently because of the magical icy walls. I'm sure, reader, you've heard about the Deliquesce—the melting of the magical ice dome surrounding Elfsburg and the Workshop. Should it happen, all magic, all of humanity as we know it would cease to exist. Jack is the current possessor of the winter magic that keeps the dome solid—when he became Santa, he passed that power down to me.

Unfortunately, that meant frequent trips up North to see my brother.

Which I suppose in a way was strike one for him.

And for me as well.

* * *

"This list thing is so much work," Curtis said, reading the list for Santa.

"That's why I'm making you do it," Jack said, standing in front of a mirror, two elves measuring his waste.

"Finally, the W's," Curtis mumbled. With a heavy sigh, he read the list out loud, Jack telling him if the child was good or bad.

"You're down by two more inches, sir," one of the tailor elves said, frowning.

"Excellent," Jack said gleefully.

"But sir—"

"Are you _questioning_ me?" Jack snapped, the other outspoken tailor elf gulping.

"N-no, sir."

"That's what I thought."

"What is going on in here?"

"Ah! Bernie! Nice of you to drop in. How's it going?"

"_Don't_ call me Bernie."

"Bernie, please. Where are your manners?"

The curly haired elf huffed. "_Please_ don't call me Bernie," he said, teeth clenched.

"Much better, bean-head. Now, what can I do for you?" He asked, the tailor elves pinning the suit around Jack, taking note of the adjustments needing to be made.

"You should be checking the list," Bernard said.

"I am," Jack replied.

"No you're not! Curtis is doing it!"

"We have a system, Bernard."

The elf stared.

"Curtis, why don't you explain it to your boss here."

"Uh…y-yes sir. Right. Um, well, I…uh…"

"Oh, forget it, I'll do it," Jack snapped. Waving off the elves, who stood by either said of the mirror dutifully, he turned to face the head elf.

"You see, checking the list was getting a little bit tedious," he began, walking towards the desk and picking up the long scroll. "All these names, all these markings…way too much work, if you ask me. Naturally, I decided to take a break—and found this elf down in R and D being a suck up. So, I asked him to help me out and voila, here we are. He reads the names, I say "naughty" or "nice", he marks it down, and bam-wham job done easily."

"On your part," Curtis mumbled under his breath, deeply regretting his earlier want to get closer to the boss man.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing, nothing…"

"That's what I thought," Jack said, turning back to the mirror and snapping his fingers, arms out. Instantly, the two elves finished pinning the red coat. Carefully, they slid it off and brought it out the door, pants included.

"Now, what can I do for you Bernard."

"You were wanted on the floor two _hours ago_," he snapped. "We're having issues with the Santa's-In-A-Box."

"Then fix them."

Bernard nearly slammed his head on the wall.

"What?"

"We _can't_ fix them. We've been trying _all day!_ Now R and D is short staffed and the queue of toys is already behind by three days!"

"Bernard, Bernard, Bernard, Ber-NARD. You really need to unwind. Chillax, elf. Besides, I can't help you now! I have company," Jack said.

"Curtis, get out," Bernard snapped, the elf scurrying away gleefully. "Now you don't."

"That wasn't my company," Jack snapped. "Now I have to do the list myself, _thanks_ Bernard."

"You do realize that's how it's supposed to be done, right? By Santa? Not an overly-enthusiastic elf?"

"Ah! Jacqueline! Lovely to see you!" Jack said, ignoring her comment, as per the norm. "What brings you here to see little old me?"

Jacqueline sighed, unamused. She fisted her hands deeper into the pocket of her long light blue hoodie, her white leggings sodden from the stubborn walls.

"Your stupid walls," Jacqueline said.

"I agree, I'm not fond of the colours—too _red_ if you ask me."

"Not _those_ walls you lava brain! Those walls," she snapped, pointing out the window at the colourful glacier dome.

"Oh," Jack said, sulky. Whenever Jacqueline brought up her winter time duties—Jack's old ones—he got a little bit…_nippy_.

"I have no idea how you handle this one, Bernard."

"That makes two of us. Sticking around Jacqueline?" Bernard asked. "I can get Judy to prepare your room."

"No, I just came to be polite," she said, looking down at her soft blue leather boots.

"Nonsense, Jacqueline!" Jack said, waltzing over to his sister. Grabbing her shoulders and turning around, he began to walk her out into the hallway leading to his personal quarters. She raised an icy eyebrow at him, her curly white ponytail caught under his arm.

"I really rather—"

"Oh, hush now, sister. Stick around! Stay the night! I've been meaning to talk to you, anyway. Seeing as how we are siblings and you are the current Jack Frost," he said, icily, "I've been thinking…"

"That could be dangerous."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying."

"Very rude, Jacqueline. No matter. Anywho, stay for dinner. We can have a nice lovely chat—I've been thinking of our new proximity, what with our new jobs, and I think we should really try to make amends."

"Ex_cuse me?_"

"You heard me! I'm glad we're on the same page, _phew._ Really takes a lot off my mind." He stopped in front of a light blue door, turning her towards it.

"Off _your_ mind?!"

"I shall see you at six!" he said, making his way down the hall and disappearing.

* * *

"Who does he _think_ he is!?" I shouted to nobody a few minutes later, angrily atoning my room to my more icy taste in décor. (Jack's furniture preference is _much_ too dark).

"Make amends?! Pretend everything is okay?! As if!" I growled, blasting the bookshelf and turning it from sleek black wood to icy white. A blast here, a blast there, and suddenly it was almost homey. Almost. I could feel the repressed anger I've boiled with over the year slowly simmer, right to the top. I shouldn't have bottled it all up, really—it made for a very long, cold winter for northern Canada—but I didn't want to take it out on Jack. Not up North, around all the elves.

But now, oh ho HO. Now, I was very much considering spilling the beans to Jack.

Ah yes, the beans. I see I've failed to mention what I've learnt.

You see, dear reader, between spreading snowy weather across the world and attending council meetings (dreadfully boring, the _lot_ of them), I've been piecing together a few things. Specifically, what it was about Jack being Santa that wasn't right.

It took a lot of research and a lot of scrap paper, but I figured it out. Somehow, twelve years into the future, Jack tricked the proper Santa, Scott, into giving up his position. Whatever trick he used, it meddled with the timeline and allowed him to go right back to that specific point where Scott became Santa, and take his place.

This is why nobody remembered. As for why I remembered, I assumed it had to do with our very strong link—the Legate bond.

I sat down for a minute, breathing in. And out…and in.

He wants to make amends _now_. After leaving the family, leaving _me_ for fourteen hundred years, emotionally damaging mom, stabbing me right through the stomach several times—_literally_—and leaving Crystal Springs in chaos all those years ago, he wants to make amends.

"He has no idea what he's dealing with."

"Yeah, you're telling me," Bernard said, entering my room.

"Is knocking like a foreign idea here in Elfsburg?" I snapped.

"Sorry. I…I heard you storming around as I was passing through and thought maybe you wanted to talk…or something."

I raised an eyebrow. Bernard had good intentions, really. He was just really bad at talking about feelings. Like, _really_ bad.

"Thanks," I say, burrowing deeper into my sweater. Bernard wasn't the only one bad at talking about moods. I have two extremes—angrily taking out my feelings on people or moping about, very hesitant to talk about them. He settled himself into the other arm chair, sitting rigidly.

It was silent for a bit, before I piped up.

"It just…it makes me so _angry_," I said, fury in my voice, "that now, after all these years, not a single peep or squabble from him…that _now_ he wants to "make amends"," I say, air quotes and all.

"He does have a really bad rep sheet with you and your family."

"You're not kidding. Mom froze her heart for the _third time in her life_ because of him. Dad is always concerned about mom…nothing makes her smile. They haven't even told our younger twin siblings about Jack."

I huffed. More silence.

"Right now this isn't about your family, Jacqueline. I mean in a way it is, but not totally…what I mean is this specific conflict right here has to do with you and Jack. What I'm trying to say is…" Bernard hesitated, searching for words.

"You're asking me how _I_ feel. Like right now. Specifically me versus Jack."

A sigh of relief. "Yeah."

I frowned, thoughtful. I couldn't tell Bernard about what had happened with the family and Momma Nature—because it hadn't happened yet. All the progress we made in our family, all the healing, totally gone now.

Even though I felt like everything was half-fixed because I remembered that evening with Mother Nature happening, it wasn't.

So mom was sad. Dad was concerned. The Twins were clueless.

And how did I feel?

Well, if that night hadn't happened, I'd still feel…responsible. Responsible for what Jack did and continued to do. Hurt by it, too. Hurt by mom because I felt like she was afraid of me. Heck, I was afraid of me.

Was I still afraid of me?

I stared at my pale hands.

Yeah. I was afraid of me.

"I feel afraid. I'm afraid of what's gonna happen. Of what I can do now…but even more than that, I'm _angry_," I realized, "because—and I know this'll sound totally crazy Bernard but just bear with me here—when Jack did whatever he did to become Santa, he messed with time and we were fine, the family was fine we were fixed and Jack, of _course_ frosted it up."

I let out a loud ugh and slumped in my seat.

"Well I don't think you're crazy," Bernard pointed out.

"You don't?"

"Nope."

That was a relief.

"Why not?"

"Because I know Jack wasn't supposed to be Santa. But his predecessor didn't leave us a name for the next one. He chose the next one and he knew what would happen; all we knew is that a new Santa would be arriving in the sleigh that Christmas Day."

"Ha, you rhymed!"

"Seriously?"

"Sorry, just trying to look on some form of bright side."

"I getchya. At any rate, Jack's not doing too badly of a job. His first official night out was pretty flawless, which surprised us all. Especially since it was Jack—no offense."

"None taken."

"He's even actually trying to learn how things work around here—the only problem is, he thinks it's too much work, and finds shortcuts."

"Which is why Curtis was reading the list out to Jack."

"Exactly. And that's not the first one—he pre-ordered some parts, instead of having us make them, and aside from the huge risk to the SOS that poses, the parts are pretty poor quality. Now we're having issues like you wouldn't _believe_ with all the toys using these parts and we're behind by a few days, give or take."

"You seem unnaturally calm, despite being so behind."

"I'm freaking out on the inside," he said, his voice cracking a bit. I laughed.

"You'll find a way around it and catch up, Bernard. You always do."

"Thanks. And you'll manage to figure out what to do at tonight's dinner with your brother. You're a very determined sprite."

"Ha ha. Thanks," I said, dryly, a smile ghosting my face. "What are we now, each other's therapists?"

"Apparently," Bernard said, shrugging.

"Oh dear."

"I'm not that bad with feelings! The advice I just gave you was pretty great in my opinion."

"Let's face it, Bernard, we're both terrible therapists."

"Agreed."

It was silent for a bit longer, before Bernard broke it.

"The shortcut thing just bothers me so much! You can't just take shortcuts in this job! That's not how Santa works!"

I groaned. "What if he finds a shortcut for tonight?"

"Let's hope not. His shortcuts have been backfiring _repeatedly_ for the past _year_!"

The sound of a clock chiming out in Elfsburg rang through the window. It tolled six times; I groaned again.

"Good luck, Jacqueline," Bernard said.

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

"Hey, if you need anything…I'll be around."

I nodded. "Thanks B-man."

"Don't…don't mention it."

And with that, I left my room and made my way to the fancy dining room.

* * *

On the bright side, it smelt delicious. I swear, every single one of my favourite foods was lain out on that table and it looked heavenly.

The downside? Jack, of course.

I sat on one end of the long table, Jack on the other. He stood as I entered and took my seat, always concerned with his manners. As I sat down and waited for him to break the silence (gods only knew what would happen if I made the first move), I really took in his appearance.

Jack made a really bad looking Santa. Like, really bad.

His skin was still its normal freakishly pale colour, nearly blue, his eyebrows and hair frozen. What made him look so downright creepy was his _beard_—it was _also_ frozen and it made him look like some creepy frozen zombie Santa to be totally honest. Instead of the nearly ugly Christmas sweaters I remembered the real Santa preferring to wear, Jack was formal as always—just with a more Santa-tone to the ensemble.

I'm sure he was taking in my appearance, too. I had contemplated changing into my customary frozen blue dress, but decided against it. I came to the Pole on duty, I was gonna stay in my on duty clothes—just to remind myself that this visit wasn't permanent. I was just dropping in, fixing the walls, saying hello, then off to Australia for a flurry. Nothing permanent. I braced myself for an offhand comment about my attire.

"You could have cleaned up for dinner."

Whoop, there it is.

"My leggings dried and I brushed my hair, clean enough for me."

Jack stared, shrugging and helping himself to the food. I took it as my cue to fill my plate as well.

For a while, there was silence. Nothing but the scraping of cutlery against plates and the elves moving and serving the food, as well as replenishing our drinks. I stared at Jack, the anger inside of me growing slowly…and opened my mouth.

Probably one of the worst decisions of my life.

"How did you do it?" I demanded.

"Hmm?" he said, mouth full of food.

"How did you become Santa. You're not supposed to be Santa and you _know_ it."

"Jacqueline, please. It was just luck," he said, smiling…no, it was more of a smirk. Like he knew something I didn't know.

"Really?"

"Of course. I found the jacket, abandoned, and put it on. Nobody else was coming to claim it so I did the world a favour."

"A favour?!"

"Uh, yeah. Without me, we'd be Santa-less! And where would all the good little boys and girls be, hmm?"

I hissed.

"Woah, _feisty_. Now, let's talk about what I originally proposed, hmm?"

"Oh yeah. Your _making amends_ thing."

"_Our_ making amends. You know, I've been doing a-a lot of thinking this year. Bringing in some changes, reflecting on my new life…I've finally become Santa. I'm finally recognized around the world, Jacqueline, and I want you to be a part of this new chapter of my life with me."

"Uh-huh. Right."

"Truly! This is going to make everything better," Jack said.

"Everything _better?!_" I snapped, standing up from my chair, my cutlery flying. "Everything was better eleven years into the future until you screwed it up with your timeline messing around! We were fixed, the family was happy again! And then I woke up and suddenly it's nineteen ninety four AGAIN and not two thousand and six and mom won't look at me, her and dad fear me and nothing is the way it was supposed to be!"

"How much do you know," Jack said, menacingly, standing up from his chair. Unconsciously, I shifted into a defensive pose, my hands gripping the table.

"What do you think I know?"

"I think you know something I think only I know but you must know about since you're talking about the future…"

I clenched the table harder, my knuckles turning whiter. My eye twitched; the temperature in the room dropped a tad.

"Well then, that something you think only you know and nobody else knows is actually known by someone else in this very room…"

Now Jack hissed. "That can't be right…the clause…"

"So it's a clause!"

"Ha! You don't know!"

"Oh I do know," I said, tendrils of frost creeping out of my palms, slowly freezing the table. "I know that you are not supposed to be Santa. I don't know how you did it, but I know you did…and now you've helped me narrow down the search a bit more!"

"So what are you gonna do about it, hmm? Stop me? Jacqueline, why can't you see how much better everything is now? I'm Santa, me, Jack Frost! I have the coke cans and the postage stamps and the songs and the adoration and fame…"

"How does that make _anything_ better?!"

"I've reclaimed winter!"

"There never was anything to reclaim!"

My arms swung forwards, two accidental icy blasts creating a trail of ice across the table, icicles sprouting up from the frozen track, just missing Jack's face. Gasping, I thrust my hands back into my pockets, still in a defensive pose. I blanched—I had just initiated a hand-to-hand fight with my all-powerful brother…I was just short of doomed.

"Well, well, _well_. It looks like _someone_ is having a wee bit of power control," he said, lifting his arms and opening his palms, he thrust forward—but nothing happened.

"Wait…what? Where's my frost?!" wild hand motion after wild hand motion, Jack tried to create any bit of snow or ice—only to fail epically.

"Well, well, _well_…it looks like someone doesn't even _have_ their powers!" I shouted.

"This…this can't be…I'm Jack Frost."

"No. _I'm_ Jack Frost now," I said, shocked at the maliciousness in my voice. "And you can forget about your making amends crap, _Santa_," I hissed. "It's not gonna happen. It's _never_ going to happen! You ruined everything with your stupid ideals! And I swear to every power that be, I will make you_regret_ the day you put on that coat. Just you wait!"

And with that, I turned on my heel and burst through the door, leaving a trail of snowflakes and blue sparks in my wake.

* * *

"What happened here?" Bernard said moments later, appearing in the dinning room.

A jagged trail of icicles lined the long table, two large icicles protruding at the end of the table, almost directly in Jack's seat. The table itself, legs and floor and chairs, all had a thin layer of frost coating them; the temperature in the room was much colder than should be, and a befuddled Jack stood at the end of the table, slack jawed with surprise in his eyes.

"Santa?"

"I can't frost," he whispered.

"What?"

"I _can't frost!_"

It took all of Bernard's willpower to not crack his serious façade and smile the biggest smile possible at this news.

"I guess it didn't go well?" he asked.

"She rebuked my attempts at a reconciliation! She accused me and…and…I can't frost!"

Angrily, Jack turned on Bernard. "Your sassy comments are not appreciated, Bernard. Get back to work, everyone! Every elf in this Pole better be doing something useful!"

"But sir, only three quarters of the force works this early into the year."

"Not anymore," Jack growled, stomping out of the room. "I want every not-working elf working on a solution to my frosty problem!"

"Don't you mean lack of a frosty problem?"

"Shut up!" Jack yelled. "Instead of insulting your boss, do me a favour and get to work!"

And with that, leaving Bernard slightly shocked (Santa hadn't yet raised his voice once), Jack left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

From what Bernard told me, after that huge fight between Jack and I, Santa Jack gave the North Pole a living hell for nearly a month. On the one hand, I felt bad; the elves, Bernard, they didn't deserve a straight month of a wounded Jack taking out his anger on them. But on the other hand, I felt great; I got to tell off my brother and it felt _good_.

But not good _enough_.

If there was one thing that I wanted after that dinner, more than anything, it was someone to take me seriously. To reaffirm my thoughts, to tell me, "hey, Jacqueline, you're not crazy! Jack really isn't supposed to be Santa! No worries, you're not going bonkers!"

So in the heat of the moment I teleported to the Quartz Forest in search of my grandmother.

When I finally found her in her forest office reading over some papers, I went off on a tangent.

"Grandmother, I am at my wits end!"

"Jacqueline, please, calm down…you're freezing the grass!"

I growled, pacing back and forth.

"What's happened?" She asked me, putting the papers aside and giving me her full attention.

"I was up North—"

"Oh no. What did he do now?"

"He wanted to _make amends_. He wanted me to just forgive him for everything he's ever done and join him at the Pole. He seriously believes that becoming Santa was the answer to everything!"

"And how did you reply to that?"

"I snapped on him, Mother Nature. I also accidentally froze his dinning room. I just couldn't believe—ugh!"

I was so angry I couldn't even phrase my thoughts properly. So instead, I plopped down on the heavy carved-out seat across form her wooden tree desk and simmered quietly, trying to calm down.

"Just breathe, Jacqueline. What else happened?"

Grandmother's voice was very soothing, I'll admit. So, listening to her calming words I told her about what happened at dinner.

"So then I opened my big mouth and asked him how he became Santa because we all know he shouldn't be Santa! And he confirmed my thoughts, Mother Nature! He confirmed that he did something to go back in time and reset everything so he was Santa!"

"Are you absolutely sure, Jacqueline?"

"Yes! He said something about a Clause and I _know_ that someone's gotta believe me now—"

"Sweetheart, calm down. Just, be silent for a moment, okay?"

I stared at her, my mouth open in a small 'o'. Grandmother rang a bell, a small earth faerie appearing with a cup of tea.

"Here, darling. Drink this. Calming jasmine tea," she said, the faerie giving me the cup. Numbly, I took it, the steam wafting up, warming up my cold cheeks. I sipped the warm beverage, calming down almost instantly—and very confused. I thought for sure that Grandmother believed me now, but for all intents and purposes…it was as if she barely heard a word I had just said.

I muttered a thanks, waiting for Mother Nature's next words.

"While your suspicions are…reasonable, we have no proof that what you claim is true, Jacqueline. Unfortunately, your brother _is_ Santa. How he became Santa, whatever means he used, is unknown and probably never will be known. All we have is Jack's fragmented story and your claims against him. And unfortunately, we cannot do anything with just that. We would need more evidence."

I gaped, open mouthed. "But…a clause, and the timeline, and the—"

Mother Nature walked around the table, gently squeezing my shoulder. "I know it's hard to wrap your mind around, and I know that all these newfound responsibilities are taking their toll on you, Jacqueline. You're doing a wonderful job; but perhaps you're a tad bit…stressed."

"So you think I'm sprouting these accusations against Jack because I'm _stressed?!_"

"Not _exactly,_" she said, searching for her words carefully. "I just—"

"Ugh, Grandmother, _please_. Just don't even bother! You literally just said that!"

"Not entirely—"

"There you go _again!_ I can't believe this!" I shot up, slamming my teacup down on the table.

"Jacqueline, wait!"

"Forget it, grandmother! Just for_get it!_ I'm out of here!"

And with that, I flew out of the Garden and into the Forest, throwing myself into the wind and up in the clouds and far, far_away_ from Mother Nature and Jack and the whole mess that currently was my life.

* * *

**A/N It's 4:30AM. I'm not tired at all. I finished this chapter (finally) an hour ago. Send help I've scuppered up my sleeping schedule beyond belief! D:**

**Anywho, here it is! Year two! I wanted to make a note that this rendition won't really focus on Jack's actual flights out...I want to focus more on how he acted at the Pole, and what caused his downward spiral to turning the Pole into a scuppering theme park, ya feel? So yeah, lotsa angst and emotion and yay! I loved writing Jack and Jacquie's fight scene omg it was great.**

**So yeah, sorry if there's any mistakes, grammar wise. Please point them out and come more coherent, socially acceptable hours I shall fix those. Also to explain my long absence: November has been busy as fudge assignment wise plus nanowrimo-though you'll be happy to know that Dark Shadows is coming along nice enough :D. Also, I caught a cold this week...not fun. Send me virtual get betters and chicken noodle soups guys!**

**I can't think of much else to say except for enjoy year two, because strike two is far worse than strike one let me tell you, and that I'll try to have Year Three up sooner than Year Four! I look forward to your thoughts and feels in that lil white box ;)**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER**

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost, Mother Nature, Bernard, or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost, as well as her family (Blaise, winter, Fino and Fiera Frost) and their magical hometown of Crystal Springs. Any resemblance they may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****


	4. Year Three

**Year Three**

I know, I know. I was really harsh to Mother Nature that year and I probably shouldn't have stomped away like that. I'm eighteen hundred and ninety-five years old, I should've known better, been more mature…then again, eighteen hundred is the equivalent to an eighteen or nineteen year old human. I had every right to be moody. Especially since Jack's deception was becoming more and more evident and _still _nobody believed me.

I cooled off eventually, I promise. After a bit of a bad storm down under I felt better, though I can't say the same for the Aussies. I did apologise to Grandmother shortly thereafter, too, in case you were wondering. I'm not _that_ much of an icicle queen.

Now onto Year Three. Year Three was a very…_interesting_ year. The year strike two happened.

Jack decided that year that since he was unsuccessful with me, he'd take it to the next level—reunite with the _whole_ family. The problem here, was that the family wasn't ready to make up with Jack. Oh god, the amount of backstory I have to tell you know…let me try to sum this up quickly.

In the proper timeline (present-day timeline), not this crazy Jack-as-Santa timeline I'm telling you about, there are several important things that happened that kinda clear the way for Jack's return home and all of us forgiving him.

For starters, there was the Day of Darkness roughly fourteen centuries ago. This day is famous in Crystal Springs history books, though it only _severely_ impacted my parents and myself. I was only four hundred at the time, and it was a brutal night for me. It was the night Jack, then frozen and his heart cursed, decided to leave the family and "reclaim winter"—a stupid ideal he had because Santa had came along and taken a day in Jack's season as his, and then became infinitely more popular. He hurt mom and dad—quite literally—and started a huge ice storm that plagued Crystal Springs for days. At Frost Mansion, he threw a lot of icicles around—three of which landed right in my stomach. I can't really remember, to be honest…there was pain. Lots of blood. This strange tingling feeling deep within my core…

Sorry, I zoned out. Right. Day of Darkness.

This day was the reason Jack never talked to us for fourteen hundred years. It was also the reason that Mom and Dad, and to some extent Grandmother, decided to never tell the twins (who were born a few centuries later) about Jack and what he had done. It was best they grew up naïve, that way Jack's sting wouldn't hurt them the way it had hurt us three.

Fino and Fiera, however, are smart and crafty. Around what would have been year four of Jack as Santa is when they stumbled across some old photo albums and saw pictures of tiny Jacqueline and another boy they didn't recognize—though he looked very similar to them. Instead of going to our parents, they came to me…and that is how they learnt about their absent older brother, Jack.

They kept that secret for years, weighing down on them, until the final important event—Mother Nature's intervention. Year Twelve—the _proper_ year twelve, the _proper_ two-thousand and six—Jack mucked up the balance of nature, as usual. And Mother Nature came to us, with the intent of gaining Winter and Blaise's help in righting the balance…but ended up recruiting myself and the twins, as well.

That night, Mother Nature helped us all confront our fears and doubts. She balanced the Frosts—she fixed us, and that was the final imperative event that readied us for Jack's eventual return.

But in this timeline, that night never happened.

And when Jack pulled the clause, (I can't tell you guys what it was outright, not until we get to that point in the timeline when I finally found out what exactly it was Jack did to get his place as Santa…spoilers, you know!) he erased the right timeline and the twins never learnt about Jack.

Mother Nature never visited.

And we weren't balanced.

None of it had happened yet to anyone—except for me.

So now I guess you can kinda see why Jack's decision to visit the family was so very not good. In fact, it was very nearly a disaster and a half.

* * *

Jack sat at his desk, a large cup of cocoa (possibly spiked) steaming on a coaster, one leg crossed over the other, thinking.

Year three as Santa and things weren't looking as great as he thought they would've been looking back when he wasn't Santa.

For starters, his frosty powers _barely_ existed. An extensive year of practise and research found that now, he mostly had Christmas Magic at his disposal; he could frost things and create a bit of snow, but that was it. Jacqueline now possessed all of his Winter Magic—she had the snow storms and the snowballs and the ice, all the lovely ice…and all Jack had was extreme toy making skills, the ability to know everyone's name and their affiliation (naughty or nice) and other tidbits of info, and he could make Christmas decorations at will.

It was _pathetic_.

How could someone with barely any power be so much more famous then him, Jack Frost?

Well it didn't matter now. Now, he was that famous guy and he was enjoying _every last second_.

He sipped the cocoa, his thoughts returning to Jacqueline.

She did _not_ want to make up with him, not in the slightest. Which really wasn't fair, Jack thought. Now that he was Santa, everything was supposed to be _perfect_. He was supposed to have all the fame and glory, the adoration and love of his little sister once more and be with their family once again…

"That's it," Jack thought out loud. "The family…"

Grinning, Jack got an idea. A terrible, awful idea—though at the time, it seemed brilliant to him. Malicious smile plastered on his face, he threw open the doors, looking down the hall.

"You there! Elf man! Fetch Bernard for me, please."

"Right away sir!" The elf squeaked, running back down the hall.

He slammed the door, grabbing a small bag from under his desk. He began to throw a random assortment of objects in it, finding his jacket and putting on his boots.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Ah yes, Bean-head! You coulda been a tad bit faster, you know. It's the busy season, time is money!"

"It's _January_, Santa."

Jack paused, thoughtful for a moment. "Only? Huh." He shrugged, returning to lacing up his boots. "Either way Bernie, I'm trying to run a prime business here and late head elves just won't do."

Bernard could feel his eye twitching and the beginnings of a headache start up.

"Anyway, now that you've finally shown up…I need you to hold down the fort for a couple of hours…maybe a few days."

"I already do that."

"I mean like what I do, Bernard."

"Which is absolutely nothing. I _wish_."

"Cut the sass, blizzard brains. I have an important trip to make—I had a brilliant idea, Bernie."

Bernard considered all of Jack's recent "brilliant" ideas: the preordered parts (ended in catastrophic toy malfunctions with several elves sustaining crazy injuries in overnight at the Elfirmiry), ordering things online (secret of Santa was apparently _not_ a thing for Jack), and not to mention the theme music thing.

They all ended in disaster.

"What is it _this_ time?"

"Watch your tone! I know not all my ideas have been great, but this one is the best yet! I was thinking of Jacqueline's unsavoury feelings towards me, and I think I found a way to win her over!"

"Oh no."

"Oh yes! If I can't talk her into staying up here with me, I'll go to the higher ups—the family."

Bernard paled. "Are you sure that's a good idea considering the history?"

Now Jack was the one to pale. In a very rare moment of clear conscious, Jack found himself remising. Teaching his sister…messing with nature…the night of the blowout between he and Blaise…the burns the scorches the frostbite the hurt look on his mom's face and the icicles deeply imbedded into his sister's chest as the winter winds stormed around him, whiteout conditions surrounding the mansion and stretching out to the city and ice everywhere and the red stains on the white snow oh _gods the blood_—

"Earth to Santa, you there?"

Jack snapped out of it, the moment of clear conscience gone. (They happened every so often, he'd have a clear line of thought and feel all yuck inside and then as soon as it happened it was gone, just like that). His hands were clutched on the red velvet of the chair's arm, knuckles turning whiter than usual.

"Y-yeah, of course! And I think, Bernard, that history is history! It's been fourteen centuries since _that_ little incident, I'm sure everyone's cooled off by now, chilled out, and stopped to smell the roses…"

"It wasn't really a "little incident"…"

"Size aside, there's definitely been enough time for forgiveness, I'm sure of it!"

"Whatever you say."

"Exactly. This will go well!"

"And if it doesn't?"

"That's not an option," Jack snapped.

Bernard raised an eyebrow, watching Santa leave.

"This is not going to go well," he mussed out loud once Santa was out of earshot. "Not at all."

He sped out of the office, awkwardly gaiting down the hall. If things didn't go well…well, last year's incident with Santa's former powers gone served a fair enough reminder.

He better warn the elves and brace everyone for the impending disaster.

* * *

Jack headed into the stable, the fancy sleigh hitched up and gleaming, ready for him to go. Prancer and Vixen sat quietly at the front—the two of them were quite tame and as a result, Jack tended to favour them over the other six.

As with many of Jack's changes to the Pole once he took the coat, the sleigh had been drastically transformed. The colour scheme was now more winter than Christmas; silver trim gleamed in the light, the sleigh looking sleek and less jolly, as Jack put it. It was now dark blue instead of the god-awful green it was before.

One of the stable hands gave him the reigns, running off like the others had before Jack could hound them about something they were doing wrong or feeding the reindeer too much, perhaps. Two elves opened up the doors at the end of the runway, waiting for him to settle in and set off.

Once comfortably in the sleigh Jack grabbed the reigns and with a loud _ya_, Prancer and Vixen took off at a run, launching themselves into the sky. Jack watched as they ascended out through the dome, the workshop and houses turning smaller and smaller as the sleigh ascended higher and higher.

All too soon, he was on his way to his family's home—Frost Mansion.

Located in the magical city of Crystal Springs (where at least seventy-six percent of the world's magical population resided), Frost Mansion (as Jack remembered it) was a tall, three storey white brick mansion, surrounded by evergreens and bordering the Northern River. The land Frost Mansion was on was vast, and his family had made the gardens extensive and gorgeous. Jack had always thought Frost Mansion was much too big for a family of four, though he hadn't quite pondered the home, or the family, since he had left them—on what was now called in magical history books the Day of Darkness.

Frowning as he flew over the icy tundra, Jack realized that amongst other things, he hadn't considered the Day of Darkness in a while. It had been fourteen centuries since…surely by now, his parents had forgiven him. Surely.

_Jacqueline hasn't_, said a voice in is head. (He was all too familiar with this voice, it was like an anti-conscience, it always appeared when he was considering "good" things). _What makes you think your parents will?_

"They will. They have to. I've done what I needed to do and they'll be proud of me," he said out loud, reassuring himself.

The reindeer looked at each other, doubt in their eyes.

"They have to," Jack repeated.

Though really, when he thought about it deeply, they didn't. After all, what Jack had done was pretty bad…

_It needed to be done_, said the anti-conscience.

Before he had a chance to ponder any further, the sleigh cleared the mountain tops, and the spiralling city of Crystal Springs appeared.

The aerial view was…amazing, to say the least. Bordered in by mountain ranges on all four ends, Crystal Springs sprawled out from the center—the namesake of the city, ancient healing Crystal Springs. While these springs were no help for humans, they held deep magical properties and as a result were healing springs for all of the magical creatures. Four rivers sprawled out from the springs—The North River, South River, East River and West River. The four rivers met at the very edges of the mountain range, one long river circling the vast city.

From the top, Jack could see everything. He could see each of the sections of the springs, he could see Quartz Forest, where Mother Nature made her home; he could see the Market Square, a town hall (that was new), the bustling main street and all the little shops and stores that littered what could now actually be called a downtown.

To the South, he could see Summer's Villas, surrounding the beaches and stretching up into the mountains. The East, Quartz Forest and Spring's Cottage in the meadow on the outskirts of the forest, surrounded by beautiful flowers and vegetation beyond anyone's wildest dreams. He could see Autumn's large Chalet in the West, the forest thickening until it turned into the Forsaken Forest, a dark forest on the worst portion of land in the city, one in which the worst kinds of evil magical creatures resided.

He could see all the settlements in between the three sections, all the people, the faeries the animals… He could feel the magical core hidden deep within the springs coat the city in a thick layer of magic, stretching out beyond the mountain range to lightly coat the entire world.

Crystal Springs was beautiful, and for a long moment, Jack forgot his main reason for coming back to his original home, caught up in the beauty of it.

Until, that is, he looked to the North.

Because the North was where his family resided.

The reindeer lurched, beginning a downwards decent as they approached the North rapidly. Jack could see the leprechauns trying to find the gold at the end of the rainbows the water created, an amusing feat to watch. Here in the North, the trees from the quartz forest were dwarfed by the large evergreens that sprang up and eventual overtook the landscape. The far off mountains held waterfalls, water faeries choosing this area as their home. They danced and splashed, irritating the leprechauns even more.

Over a hill was a quaint cobblestone path, surrounded by evergreens, leading up to a large mansion. The large, three storey white mansion of his childhood—Frost Mansion.

His home.

His _family_.

With a nervous gulp, Jack steered the reindeer over the iron fence and landed the sleigh on the large pathway up to the veranda. He hopped out, petting the reindeer and chiding them when they searched for snacks. He stared up at the estate, now more threatening than ever.

The grounds were empty of his family, the rose bushes that lined the pathways and surrounded the Gazebo to his right blowing in the chilly wind, the red reminding him of that fateful night. The veranda was empty; the grounds still.

He walked up the steps, his every footfall seeming loud and obnoxious. Finally, he faced the doors.

"Well, here goes everything," he murmured, and knocked on the door.

* * *

A few minutes later, the door opened up. Jack frowned—nobody was there…

"Who're you?" Said a voice.

Jack stared, lowering his gaze. Two short kids had opened the door; though they were opposite in sex, they appeared to be the same age. Both the girl and the boy had flaming hair—quite literally. The boy's hair roared upwards, the girl's hair burning softly just above her neck. They both had deep orange eyes, though the girl's facial features were softer, whereas the boy had a bit of a longer nose and only a slightly round face.

The only logical explanation Jack could think of was that these two kids took after his father—but he didn't have another sister and a brother, it was just Jacqueline. Or was it?

_They don't know you, _said that voice. _They're obviously your siblings and they have no idea you exist._ Jack frowned—his damn anti-conscience needed to shut up so he could focus. And if they were his siblings (which they had to have been, Jack noted—the girl was similar to his mother and the boy favoured his father, just like Jack), then surely they knew about their older brother. Right?

"Who are you two?" Jack asked.

"We asked you first!" Said the girl.

"Why, I'm Santa!"

_That's right, you're Santa now, and the winter season is once more all about you, Jack Frost. You are Santa…_

"You don't look like Santa at all!" Said the boy.

"Yeah! You're way too skinny," the girl said.

"I've been watching my weight, way too many cookies."

"Why would Santa wanna do that? Who wouldn't love free cookies?" The girl sounded enraged.

"You look like a frozen zombie evil Santa," said the boy. Jack flinched, touching his pointed beard and pointed hair—the kid had a point.

"That would be because before I was Santa I was Jack Frost."

"Wait, what?"

"Frost? That's our last name!"

"You don't look like us at all!"

"And we don't have a brother, just Jacqueline!"

"You mean…you…they never told you about me?"

_Why would you do this? They don't love you. You have two siblings who don't even know about you. You don't need them. _

_Shut up! _Jack hissed back.

"Jacqueline! There's a weirdo at the door!"

Now Jack was in trouble.

* * *

I was up in my room when somebody knocked on the front door.

I had just gotten back from a long night of flurries throughout North America and was thinking mostly about the cake in the kitchen and a nice large cup of cocoa, to be honest. The fact that some weirdo may have been at the door was the _last_ thing on my mind. The fact that we would let the twins answer the door was even _further_ back in my mind.

I strung up a makeshift clothesline over the heater in my room, throwing my light blue hoodie and white leggings on it. I placed light blue leather boots right on top of the heater, hoping they'd dry fast because I only had a bit of a break before the next storm system moved into Saskatchewan. It wasn't until I magicked my usual icy blue dress on that I heard Fiera shout.

"Jacqueline! There's a weirdo at the door!"

"What did we tell you about answering the door, Fiera?" I shouted down, leaving my suites and heading down the twirly staircase to the second floor.

"To not to?" She shouted back up.

"Basically," I said, holding up my skirts and taking the last staircase two at a time. Finally at the front door, I shooed Fino and Fiera away, ready to talk to the "weirdo" my sister claimed was there.

I hadn't expected someone at the door, like I already said. But the last thing I expected was for this weirdo to be none other than Jack. It wasn't even a _thought_ that he'd come to Frost Mansion and show his face. Like, ever.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped.

"What, no hi? How are you Jack? How's the weather? How's the job?"

"Cut the sleet, _Santa_."

"Woah, chilly. Still on that formality thing, eh, Jacqueline? _Someone's_ still angry, I see."

"Of course I'm angry!" I shouted.

"Somebody's in trouble," Fiera sang.

"At least it's not us," Fino said.

"What's going on out here?"

The commotion in the hallway had drawn Dad out of his office; now he approached the four of us in the hall, stopping suddenly when he saw the "weirdo" at the door.

"This guy says he's our brother," Fiera said, unaffected by the tension that had suddenly filled the room and brashly pointing straight at Jack.

"And Santa," Fino added.

"I think he's a weirdo," Fiera said.

"Could you tell us what's going on, dad? Jacqueline is angry at this weird guy and we're really confused. Dad?"

Blaise had stopped listening to Fino after he asked what was going on. No, Blaise had stopped _everything_ once he saw the open door. His eyes were trained on Jack's scared face. I would've laughed at Jack's startled doe look if I hadn't been so _angry_. The _audacity_ of him, to show his face here after our huge blowout last year, after messing up the timelines, after the Day of Darkness, even. In fact, between Dad's unwavering gaze and my angry aura, I'm surprised Jack didn't walk back to the dumb sleigh behind him, coat between his legs, and fly back to the North Pole.

But of course, not Jack.

"Blaise."

"Jack."

"Dad?" Fino asked again.

"Let's go to the kitchen, the five of us. I'll explain there."

"You can't be serious!" I began.

Dad held up a hand, shushing me instantly.

"We'll talk Jacqueline, okay? Kitchen _now_. Please."

Reluctantly and with a loud UGH I threw the door open fully, Dad gesturing a still silent Jack in. I trudged behind the twins, Blaise taking up step beside Jack and following me. We all entered the pale yellow kitchen, the plants on the high shelves growing well, some of their leafy green branches tumbling down along the walls. The noontime sun shone brightly into the room, the blue counter tops sparkling.

Our kitchen is pretty darn big, though the walls are odd. Then again, all the walls in Frost Mansion are weird—they're angled. Towards the back of the kitchen, close to the backyard doors is our large oak table. It's really sturdy and scorch proof, thank goodness. Dad gestured to the table, the Twins rushing to their seats. I sat in my seat, my eyes never leaving Jack. I was watching his every move, trying to get a sense of every emotion, every thought…I knew this would not end well—mostly because I refused to let _my_ family be swayed by the likes of _him._

"What's going on?" Fiera instantly asked, no sooner had Dad grabbed the hot water and cocoa mix, the cake following behind him magically.

Blaise sighed, rubbing his temples. With Dad, that was always a sign of irritation. I scrutinized his features—one thing stood out to me, one thing that greatly pleased me. Whenever Blaise looked at Jack, his fiery hair burnt a few inches taller.

I grinned. This would be interesting.

"This man's name is Jack Frost. Though now, it would seem he is Santa Claus. Jack—Santa—whatever name he goes by now, is indeed your older brother."

"Even older than Jacqueline?"

"Way older than Jacqueline," Jack said, speaking for the first time since he walked in.

"Dinosaur old?" Fiera inquired.

"I wouldn't say—"

I cut him off. "Maybe even _older_ than dinosaurs."

"Ohhhhh," the twins coursed.

"Ouch," Jack snarked, glaring icicles at me.

I snickered, instantly silenced when Dad sent his warning look my way.

"How come we didn't know about him?"

"I'd like to know the answer to that too," Jack said. He was genuinely upset—as bad as it was, I found myself grinning more.

"Well—"

But before Blaise could answer, the backyard door slid open.

"Blaise darling, look! The herb garden you planted is flourishing, I just picked some basil and parsley—what's going on here?"

"Winter," Dad said—because our wonderful Mother Winter had just walked in from the backyard to probably one of the strangest things she has seen at the kitchen table. (Which is saying something, considering our family's shenanigans). Her eyes roamed from the Twins, to myself, to Blaise—and then set on Jack, widened in shock.

Which I didn't blame her for, of course. I mean, you should've _seen_ how Jack looked as Santa. Frozen beard and hair, both of which ended in sharp icicle-like points; the bit of weight looked really odd on him and honestly, he was probably the scariest Santa I had ever seen.

"Jack?" she whispered, disbelieving.

"Hello, Mother," he said, that arrogantly charming smile on his face.

"I can't…believe…Jack…"

"Winter!" Blaise shouted, nearly pushing the table into the wall in his haste to get to Mom.

Thank goodness he made it in time, because shortly after mumbling those words, Winter fell over in a dead faint—right into Blaise's arms.

This was _not_ going to be a pretty confrontation.

* * *

Blaise placed Winter on one of the kitchen chairs with the armrests, a soft cushion on the seat. He held her upwards as Fiera—fighting with Fino, of course—tried to wave the old smelling salts under mom's nose.

"I wanna do it!"

"No, me!"

"Give it here!"

"You did it last time!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Yeah-_huh_!"

"Would you two just stop. For like a minute," I snapped, grabbing the bottle from Fiera and wafting it under Mom's nose. Instantly she sprang up, gasping and looking around wildly.

"Shh, it's okay Winter. You're alright, I caught you."

"Thank heavens," Winter said, leaning her head forward and resting on Dad's stomach.

"Just a little shock is all, you're alright."

A little shock was an understatement. After Winter keeled over, Fiera instantly played the blame game—and by that, I mean she hopped onto the table and accused Jack of killing Mom. Of course, being the original diva of the family Jack said he didn't and that she was fine. To which I _might_ (did) have snapped and said she wasn't, while Fino dragged Fiera off of the table.

Blaise ended up shushing all four of us and demanding the salts and cushion as he carefully picked up Winter and placed her in the chair. Now he was reassuring Mom, who was composing herself for the conversation, I suppose. I sat at my seat gripping the bottle of smelling salts as if breaking it would fix everything, and Fino and Fiera pouted in theirs. Jack sat on the end, awkwardly looking around, not sure how to react to the chaos that had ensued.

The silence was awkward for a bit; the tension strong enough to cut with a knife. Like a big butcher's knife, not just _any_ old knife. Finally, Dad broke the silence.

"We have a lot of explaining to do, your Mother, sister and I." He addressed the Twins, both silent and listening eagerly.

"Where to begin," Winter said, glancing at Jack and looking away.

"I have several suggestions," I said. Most of which would put Jack on the spot. Dad looked at me sternly—I decided to go with the less trouble-inducing one. "The best of which would be the reason why you didn't tell the Twins about Jack."

"Then I'll start there," Blaise said, taking the empty sea beside Mother and squeezing her hand. Placing Mom at the end of the table, directly across from Jack probably wasn't the best idea; Dad sat closest to her, I was closest to Jack, and the Twins were on the opposite end of the table from Dad and I. Mom would have nowhere to look but Jack and having me this close to "Santa" was probably not the best idea.

Dad began to explain _everything_ to the Twins. I'll spare you the long winded details, reader—after all, I already explained them to you about ten pages up. Here's how Dad's surprisingly uninterrupted speech went—the short summary version of it, Jacqueline style.

Dad began by explaining that Jack had done a lot of bad things as he grew up. He didn't go into depth—I'm assuming his thought line was something akin to preserving their child-like innocence (but you should've _seen_ what they did to my room the other day, innocent my frosty behind!) and naiveté. Then he told them about the Day.

The Day of Darkness.

He explained that he had brought up all of Jack's shenanigans, and there was a huge fight, as a result. He told them that Jack had injured the three of us—a few scratches and scrapes here and there, a lot of emotional scars. Then he got to my _favourite_ part of the story—where little four-hundred year old Jacqueline came barrelling down the stairs, bawling her eyes out as her brother hurt their parents and left her. Of course, he told the PG version of it—so I gave them the R rated version.

"Dad, please spare them the censor, they're old enough to know," I said, staring right at Jack. "He ran outside; I chased him. We talked and he ended up throwing icicles and they hit me, right in the stomach," I said, glad to see the fleeting guilty look on Jack's face.

"Scars heal, though," Jack mumbled.

"But they never go away," I snapped back, mustering up my angriest look and giving it to him.

"Jacqueline, please," Mom asked, quietly. I glanced at her—she was much paler than usual, her hands clasped together. Now it was my turn to be sorry. Mumbling the apology, I stared down into my mug of cocoa and listened to the rest of the conversation.

Blaise proceeded to tell the Twins about the aftermath. Also known as the first five hundred years of my life in which I felt afraid. Afraid of what my parents thought, afraid of what everyone else thought—afraid of me and the terrible, terrible things I could probably do because Jack was my brother and I was his Legate and that would never change—or so I thought.

Finally Dad got to the part where the Twins were born, and how from then on things began to be a bit better. He explained that all of this backstory, all of the traumatic past events we've had happen to us, everything he had just explained caused them to make that final decision—to not tell the Twins about Jack.

There was silence after the story, everyone feeling different things and just…_thinking_. I glanced at everyone, getting a sense of their mindset—I knew deep down that this was the calm before the storm…I just didn't know what would cause the storm yet. Though, with a glance at Jack, I had my suspicions.

Once more, Mom broke the silence. "So Jack. What brings you h…here?" She couldn't bring herself to call Frost Mansion home for Jack. I don't blame her; it _wasn't_ his home, not since fourteen centuries ago.

Jack seemed to snap back from outer space in that moment. I tried to reach out in my mind to get a jist of what he was feeling (us Legates can do that with our Legendary, a kinda psychic connection is what mortals would call it. We can talk in each other's minds, get a sense of the other's feelings…it's really cool when your brother isn't a giant blizzard brain). He had blocked me out though—which wasn't surprising. After all, I did it to him all the time. Like hell I want _Jack _in my head. It took him a moment, until finally he began to speak.

"Well, I had been doing a lot of thinking, since becoming Santa," he began.

"Really now?" Blaise asked, skeptical.

"Yes. I don't…I don't know if Jacqueline mentioned our little chat last year."

"I don't believe she did," Winter said. Mom glanced at me, an eyebrow raised; I groaned.

"Ugh. I didn't want to for a reason. Thanks, Jack, for bringing it up!"

Apparently sarcasm just goes over Jack's head. Which is funny, considering how sarcastic he can be at times. Anyway, he just smiled and continued.

"Of course, since I am otherwise occupied, Jacqueline now takes care of those winter time duties," he began, sounding slightly annoyed. "So naturally, when she comes north to check on the Domes, I see her every so often. We had a…_lovely_ dinner one night where I told her about all this-this-ah…"

"Reflecting you've been doing?"

"Yes, thank you Blaise. Reflecting! So I told her that I wanted to make amends."

The silence that followed this statement was beautiful in how uncomfortable it was. Dad did not look amused; Mom looked confused…the Twins looked like they wanted to laugh, almost. _I_ wanted to laugh.

"Seriously? You're pulling _this_ stunt now?" I began.

"What do you mean?"

"You're basically tattling on me! _Oh no, Jacqueline won't accept my forgiveness! I'm telling Mom and Dad!_ Seriously?"

"That's not at all how I saw it!"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, partially. But there's more than that!" he said, getting up from his chair.

This was gonna be _good_. Laughing quietly, I leant back in my chair and made myself comfortable, cocoa in hand.

"It's taken me _decades_ to finally get to where I want to be. Now I am! I'm Santa, the winter season is mine again! I've done it. I've made you guys proud and I want you to come live up north with me."

"We never wanted you to take back winter, Jack." I was shocked that Mom was the first to reply to Jack's nonsense—and so fast. "It was never taken in the first place. A season doesn't belong to just one person; it belongs to many people who have many different meanings and associations with it."

Jack seemed at a loss for words. "But I…I brought it to the world! And I never got any recognition from anyone! Now I have! Now it means something to me, too!" Jack said.

"Are you frosting me right now, Jack?" I said.

"Language," Blaise warned, eyeing me.

"Dad, I could give less sleet about language right now. Do you hear what Jack's saying? I can't _believe_ this! This recognition slush! Honestly!" I turned to Jack, standing up now—it was that dinner all over again…except four o'clock coffee instead. "Who cares if nobody knows who you are? You think being Santa makes you some big shot now? That the whole world's just going to automatically _love_ you?"

"They do! There are songs about me! There are cards, movies, stamps…"

"No. Those songs and cards and movies are about Santa Claus, not _you_. Dad, Mom, are you seriously going to even _humour_ him? He didn't even become Santa normally, there's this whole other timeline where—ugh, for_get_ it, nobody believes me anyway. I don't know how he did it yet but I know that whatever Jack pulled was definitely not right! This," I took a break to gesture at Jack, "Is not how it should be! Jack _isn't_ supposed to be Santa!"

"You are _so_ on the naughty list," Jack said.

I growled.

"Would the two of you cut it out! P_lease_!" Blaise demanded.

Both of us stopped and stared at Dad. His hair was the highest I had seen it in a while—it was more than a little concerning, to say the least. He breathed out, a puff of steam leaving his nose. Slowly, I shifted out of the defensive stance I had unconsciously moved into and relaxed a bit. Jack looked like he had calmed down—though his knuckles were very white, clutching the edge of the table.

"Jack, we never wanted you to "take back winter". Your mother is right—winter was never taken. She would know, she _is_ Winter!"

"I thought this would make you proud, Blaise!"

"I just wanted you to stop behaving the way you were! We were already proud of you, son! You didn't need to keep messing around with the balance of nature or trying year after year to get rid of Santa! You had made a name for yourself, Jack. And if it weren't for the definite evil path you decided to follow, we couldn't have been more proud."

"I can fix this now, Dad. All of this. You can all come up and live with me there—you and mom and Jacqueline and the twins—we can make amends, be together again! It'll be great!"

"No."

The malice in Mother's voice was thick. Now _she_ stood up, her eyes cold and her voice even more so. I think my jaw almost hit the floor. Sometimes I forgot that Mom was probably one of the most powerful legendary beings in existence, and how scary she can be—she's literally winter personified. This was one of those rarer than a blue moon moments where Winter made sure to remind everyone how scary she could be.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no. I mean that we're staying right here."

"But…this was supposed to fix everything!"

"Well it _didn't_," I snapped, getting up. "You just made everything worse Jack!"

"Hush now Jacqueline. Let us take care of this, okay? Just breath," Mom said, a look on her face I hadn't seen in a while: compassion. I hushed and let her take over, her calm anger scary beyond all reason.

"Jack, you can't just march back to your family after fourteen centuries with a title that shouldn't be yours and expect us all to turn the other cheek and forgive you. Forgiveness is earned, not bought. You may not be aware of it but this is our home. This is where we live, not the North Pole. I'm sure you mean well," she said sarcastically, "but we will be staying here, Jack. Now I'm positive I don't have to show you the way out—you know it quite well. Good day, Jack."

And leaving us all in a silent awe, Mother turned on her heel, cloak swishing behind her, and left the kitchen.

"I don't…I don't understand."

"It's simple, son," Blaise began, condescendingly. "We're not going. I'm with your mother on this—and your sister. However you've acquired the position of Santa Claus, it doesn't feel right."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to punch Jack. Finally someone believed me, even if a little. My parents had been withdrawn from me, since my first accusation of Jack. Now, they seemed to be in some little form of agreement. It was a start.

A _small_ start.

"First Jacqueline, now the rest of my family? I don't believe it."

"Oh, please. Seriously Jack? Don't start a little pity party for yourself, you heard the decision—and don't even think about asking the Twins next because I' pretty sure after everything they learnt today, they're not fans of yours. You've caused more than enough damage already, so just _stop_. We will _never, ever_ forgive you, so just get going! Now it was a _pleasure _to see you, _Santa_ but Saskatchewan is in for a mighty storm so I must be off."

And with that, I marched out of the kitchen and up to my room.

* * *

I hid on the landing, just by the stairs, listening to what went on after I left the kitchen. Blaise walked Jack—who was in shock—to the door, the Twins trailing along behind Dad. Only after he got to the door did the anger begin to sink in—we could hear him muttering all the way to the sleigh. I felt kind of bad for Bernard and the other elves. I knew my brother well enough to know that once he got back, the anger would be full out rage and that was _never_ pleasant.

I walked on shaky legs back up the twirling stairs to my rooms, trying to calm my anger and frustration. It was no use, though; the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

With Jack's second leave—thankfully not as violent as that Day—the house was once more left in chaos. And not the good kind, mind you—the quiet kind. Once Dad calmed himself, he'd find Winter and calm her. Mom was probably in tears by now; that would take a while. Then he'd have to deal with the Twins who were uncharacteristically quiet, taking everything in. The aftermath with them? Fino would ask a tonne of questions and Fiera would start to plan an assassination, most likely.

I felt so bad for them, having to wrap their heads around fourteen centuries of painful family history. Now I knew why Grandmother, Mom and Dad decided against telling them. I could feel angry tears threatening to escape, my eyes hot and watery. Angrily I threw on my boots and my leggings and my still slightly damp sweater.

"Jacqueline?"

I whipped around. "Mom."

Her eyes were red and puffy, tear tracks dried on her cheeks. Her neat bun was disheveled, her cloak still on. Just seeing how upset my mom was—even though I knew that Blaise had calmed her down by now—angered me greatly.

Mom looked like she wanted to say a bunch of different things; but to my surprise, she came up to me and grabbed me in a tight hug. I hid my face on her shoulder, because those damn tears were threatening to come back and like _hell_ was I gonna let my mother see me cry. Jacqueline Frost _never_ cries.

Mom's embrace was comforting, if only a little. I heard her inhale; she whispered quietly near my ear saying, "I love you Jacqueline. Never forget that."

I paused for a moment, kind of in shock. Though she never said so outright very frequently, I knew she loved me. To hear it from her own mouth however was rare. I hugged her tighter, one single tear escaping.

"I know, Mom. I won't."

She let go of me, staring at me for a bit before squeezing my shoulders tightly and smiling, very small. I watched her leave and kept thinking about Jack's little visit and how _angry _it made me. And that's when the idea began to take shape in my mind.

I followed Winter out and caught her as she headed downstairs.

"Mom?"

"Jacqueline?"

"I love you too, Mom. Don't forget that," I said, smiling.

An actual smile that reached her eyes greeted me in return; if she wasn't already halfway down the stairs, I would've hugged her again—especially as the idea began to fully form in my mind and I began to see its brilliance.

"I know, Jacqueline. I won't," repeating my words from earlier, she smiled; then continued on her way downstairs. I, meanwhile, ran across the hall and threw open the balcony doors. Running across the balcony, I hopped the railing and jumped into the air. The wind picked me up, propelling me towards the next winter storm.

I couldn't stop thinking about Jack's visit. About how the twins must feel. About how angry Dad must be. About Mom's bold words and breakdown following the departure. Jack had done it, Jack had made everyone all upset and disturbed and angry _again_ and _he _was the reason the Timeline was all messed up with no happy Frost family, no Grandmother Nature guided therapy session and balancing of the family, no happy Winter, no _Elle_…

I admit, the storm was a wee more intense than originally planned, but I didn't care. I was furious. He thought he could be all high and mighty now that he was frosting _Santa Claus_. That wouldn't _do_; someone needed to knock him down a peg, give him a taste of his own medicine…

I had a plan; but like I've said before, this was only strike two. When I got home later that evening, I stared at my messy appearance in the mirror. I wasn't going to make my plan a thing _just yet_, I decided. No. I'd wait and see what year four of Jack's rule would bring.

And wait I did; and what year four brought for all of the magical world, thanks to Jack...oh boy.

* * *

**A/N-Hi hay there hello hello! Look at this, a Frostmas update! I'll be updating this every other Wednesday :). This chapter was especially hard to write (and really freaking long I'm so sorry I try not to go above 5,000 words but this is 7.6k and I apologises for the length), considering canonically for me every one of the Frosts has made up with each other and is on good terms. But on the other hand, taking this opportunity to explore how the reunion could've gone bad was a lot of fun. I almost fudged up my order though, but I fixed it to leave you hanging in suspense muhaha! What is Jacquie's plan? What is Jack gonna mess up next year!?**

**You'll get your answer next next Wednesday ;)**

**On that note the next Chapter will probably be short. What, you think Jack's years as Santa were exciting every year? Some were downright boring. As for me, I'm going back to watching Doctor Who and working on my original story Remnants. It;s about time I got that one done, as well!**

**I look forward to hearing your ranting and raving and thoughts and favourite parts-well, reading all about them in the lovely whit ebox used for that sort of thing. Night my lovelies and thank you for all the kind words! 3**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER**

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Jack Frost, Bernard, or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost, as well as her family (Blaise, Winter, Fino and Fiera Frost) and their magical hometown of Crystal Springs. Any resemblance they may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****


	5. Year Four

**A/N-7,278 Words pre-edited without A/N's or Disclaimers _I am so sorry_**

* * *

**Year Four**

If you thought the aftermath of Year Three's disastrous reunion was bad on our end, it was tenfold bad on the North Pole's side of things. I mean, you can _imagine _how Jack felt after all that. In fact according to Jack himself (it was super hard to even talk to him about these events. If ever you want to see a man so full of regret just talk to my Jack in this proper timeline, oh boy…) when he arrived back at that Pole, he was _livid_. He locked himself in his office and began to plan.

"Began?" I had asked; he had hesitated then he told me that perhaps began wasn't the proper term, maybe more so continued and finalized. He had been planning since year two apparently, but he had held out. The visit with the family was the catalyst; it was what made him decide to go through with the first few stages of his master plan.

By year two Jack had been thinking that it was a heck of a lot of work to be Santa. One whole night he spent flying here and there, going down chimneys, dealing with dogs and guns and security systems and even worse, _cats_ of all things, and all he got for it was a couple of lousy cookies. Where was the thanks in that? After all, he was trying to trim down and cookies were a big no-no. By year three, Jack had written down a few ideas, done a few schematics and blueprints. Because you see, reader…Jack had been thinking (a dangerous thing) and had come up with an idea—what if he could bring the children to him?

It would be ideal. No more flying amuck on a sled…no more cookies…no more cats and dogs and guns and security systems…he would barely have to move a muscle. The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. For the rest of that third year, slowly Jack planned. The third Christmas came and went, the fourth year of his reign as Santa blew on in and then, Jack began to assign odd tasks to some of the elves. All of them were frightened. The things he was making them do almost seemed as if he wanted to completely _stop_ the toys from being made and the deliveries from happening; the elves were all in a tizzy and poor Bernard, he had no idea what was happening either.

In fact, nobody quite knew. Eventually Jack recruited a specific group of elves to help him with the bigger things. Everyone thought that this was it, the answers would come to them now—but the elves selected by Santa himself were sworn to silence.

Bernard tried to talk to them, he tried every which way in fact: typical boss way, the loud voice way, the threats-I'll-never-actually-carry-out way, but the elves wouldn't crack. They told him themselves: there was nothing at all Bernard could do to them that would be worse than what Jack would to do them if they told. Even when he sat them down with warm mugs of cocoa, safe and sound in his own rarely used house with nobody but the few of them, talking to them calmly and gently the way everyone knew he usually would, Bernard didn't get much out of them.

"Things will change if what Santa wants to do gets approved," the elves told B-Man. "And it won't be good. It's awful, and we would tell you if we could but we can't, Bernard, we can't or he'll…we just _can't_," they told him.

I'm sure you're wondering how I know all of this now if Bernard doesn't remember the timeline. It's all very spotty, really—Jack and I retain our full memories from those twelve years that never were; Father Time of course knows of it very well. Santa—the real one—knows what Jack ended up doing to the Pole, but that's all he remembers. After all, he wasn't up North during those years. He was doing human things like working and making money and being jerky (Oh, I'm a bit biased, I should apologise if the reader is human…though why you're in the magical archives of Crystal Springs beats me. There has never been a human in Crystal Springs and we're so well tucked away, there probably never _will_ be one here). As for B-Man, sometimes he has random déjà vu moments; but he has no recollection of what went down. And considering what happened to him…well, I think it's better that way.

Now if you'll remember during year two, he and I decided to be each other's therapists. And we were. Listening to the boss elf rant was hilarious—well it is now. At the time it was awful, knowing that my own _brother_ was the reason for the rant, the person most like me in all of the world probably (I know what you're thinking, reader. Jacqueline? As evil as Jack was? Preposterous! I totally agree with you, I'm much warmer and way better looking, I think. But at the time, and even still sometimes now, I'm afraid that I have the potential to be like he was. I've spent all of my life trying to escape his shadow and only now, nearly fifteen hundred years after his departure and a few years after his return—maybe a decade, I lose track of time being immortal and all—am I finally making my own shadow, and not hiding in his).

Whoops, a bit off topic, apologies reader. Now where were we…ah yes!

The more Bernard and I met up and talked, the more an awkward friendship based on the mutual dislike of a person bloomed and yeah, we became pretty great friends. Thankfully, that carried on into the proper timeline (what a relief). When I was at the Pole I'd bug good old B-Man in his office, ask him how things were; I told him all about the disastrous family meeting and apologised many times over and over for what happened and he'd constantly tell me it wasn't my fault, he saw it coming and Jack should've realized it wouldn't go well and really how stupid was he to think everyone would be happy to see him?

In return he'd tell me about what Jack was up to, and what was going on with the elves. A lot of nights we'd put our heads together and try to think of a way to figure out what he was making them do—though as I've said, our efforts were futile. He was my connection to what went on in the Pole, though; and it's a good thing too, otherwise this writing it out thing would have a lot of holes seeing as how he remembers like nearly nothing from that timeline.

That little statement from those elves was our one lead. We never got any further. The Council wasn't amused; Jack had stopped coming to meetings completely—they relied on me to tell them what the Pole was like, and occasionally Bernard. It got harder and harder for him to sneak away—Jack was turning into a real tyrant, and while he never actually hurt the elves, there was a lot of threats being tossed about. They were afraid. We all were.

For the rest of year three and a good portion of year four, we were all in the dark until Jack rang a small little bell. He called a council meeting; an emergency one. He had everything ready to go and was going to show it to us and seek approval. Bernard and I would get our answers, finally; as would the council. But at what cost, I wondered? What was his plan and how would it affect us?

When I got my answer…well, you know what they say. Three strikes and you're out.

This was Jack's third strike; as far as I was concerned after the dreadful events of year four, he was _out_.

* * *

"And you have no idea what it's about?"

"None whatsoever. He hasn't been to any meetings this year—naturally, we're all surprised that he's called one."

The voices were coming from the blue parlour. Throwing my boots to the side and padding quietly down the hall, I peeked into the room quietly and casually.

Mom sighed, sitting down beside Grandmother Nature. Winter had thought it had been a hard enough year for us at home, but it would appear it had been tenfold worse for Mother Nature. The dark woman sat beside her daughter, black hair windblown and casual purple dress dishevelled. According to Mother Nature, Jack had stopped coming to meetings after his visit to Crystal Springs. They had no idea what Santa was doing what with the radio silence. Now, out of the blue he had called a meeting and nobody knew what it was about.

Mother Nature had thought about it and decided it would be best to tell me about this meeting in person (and she was probably right); but since I was actually doing the whole "spreading frosty cheer and bringing winter" thing, she didn't quite catch me at home. In fact, Winter was the only one home that day—probably a good thing. Blaise was pretty upset still from last year's incident; had he been told about it right away, well…

"I have absolutely no idea what he's up to now," Winter had said, after a brief silence.

"Looks like we shall soon see."

"Soon see what?" I said, entering the room. My curiosity was burning—or maybe I was just angry at this latest report of Jack's antics. It was hard to tell, nowadays.

"Jacqueline sweetheart, we were just waiting for you," Mom said.

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's quite important, come in and take a seat dear," Mother Nature said, gesturing to the seat in front of her. I curled up on the couch closest to me, my fluffy clad feet underneath me. Mom was averting her eyes, rubbing her hands together; Mother Nature hesitated, as though she was trying to think of the best way to break whatever Jack had done now to me.

"No need to soften it Mother Nature, just come straight out and say it. What happened now?"

"Santa has called an emergency meeting for tonight."

"You're _joking_."

"Part of me wishes I was."

I slouched in my seat and groaned out loud, my head hitting the back of the couch. I thought I'd be angry—and oh I was. Silence for almost a year, and now suddenly he's demanding a council meeting after skipping out on so many? Mostly though I felt tired. Moving a storm system throughout the northern states and Canada and now I have to deal with Jack? And this close to Christmas, too? It was late December for frosts sake!

"Great! Wonderful," I said, oozing sarcasm.

"I thought it would be better to tell you in person, especially with your…accusations."

I nearly growled. I had been insisting at most council meetings that Jack wasn't supposed to be Santa—but of course, grandmother would constantly say the same thing: _we know that it's hard to see your brother as Santa, we're just about as happy with it as you are but Jacqueline, false accusations are not tolerated…_ and then after that I'd zone out and it would just be "blah, blah official stuff". Though she did have a point—I had no grounds for my accusations (yet)—it still upset me that nobody would even hear me out; not even Father Time, the so called All-Seeing Time Master.

There was a bit of a tense silence; Mother broke it, clearing her throat.

"Any idea what it may be about, sweetheart?" she asked calmly, staring at her hands.

"Nope," I said.

"I was hoping…"

"You were hoping what, Grandmother?" I asked, a bit sharply.

"I was hoping perhaps that you had made a bit of headway on the going ons up north. Maybe some elf finally fessed up or perhaps you caught a stray thought…"

"Absolutely not," I snapped. "I've told you I refuse to use the link. Not on my _life_."

"Jacqueline, we're going in blind… any help at all is welcomed. You're the only person in all of Crystal Springs and the Pole who could possibly figure out what Santa's up to."

I stood up, trying to reign back my anger—_this was your _grandmother, _Jacqueline_, I told myself. _She means well, keep it _chill…

"I've been _trying_ to figure it out all year! Everything is all under wraps and I've told you and the council and _everyone_ that I am never, ever using our Legate link _ever_ again, so long as he is Santa! Look, I know it would be a help but I just _can't_," I said, my eyes prickling with heat.

It came out a bit harsh; Winter looked hurt. I softened a bit, holding back my fury and postponing the tears. "I just can't," I began softer; my voice wavered. Oh, I hate how betraying my voice can be. "I'm sorry Grandmother. Thank you for telling me about the meeting in person. I'll meet you there, I promise."

Mother Nature looked like she wanted to say more; but my tone had softened her resolve and one look at Winter, sitting on the couch across from her with her hands in the lap of her simple blue dress, her icy eyes sad, seemed to freeze the deal.

"Alright," she said simply. "I understand. You go on and wind down. I'll meet you in the courtyard of the Pole at six in the evening, alright darling?"

"Yes Mother Nature," I said, thanking her once more and rushing out of the room and up to my third floor. I slammed my sitting room door shut and slid down the light blue wood, holding my head in my hands.

Since the beginning of the year, everyone had been after me to do a little snooping into Jack's mind via the Legate connection we still shared. Why we still shared it, I had no idea; I mean, the Legate Law had been acted upon—I was Jack Frost, no longer the Legate but the Legend itself. So I thought hmm, the link will disappear now, won't it? We aren't even the same Legendary anymore! Magic, however, is a very confusing and mysterious thing. Nobody really understands the Source and why certain things stick around when they do or how our Cores work. We get a bit closer every century, but there's still a lot to understand.

So for some reason I still had the connection with Jack. I could break it—it was possible. Jack had done so with Winter—or perhaps she did it first. Nobody really knows; it's one of Crystal Spring's greatest mysteries. I just couldn't bring myself to sever the link. I could see that glowing thread in my mind, dark blue, linking me to him, could see how easy it was to cut it but I just couldn't do it.

Instead I slowly built a brick wall around it, stacked very high until that sparking thread of dark blue was completely blocked off. So yeah, there was a legit reason I couldn't do it—I had walled it off. The real reason though, was that Jack and I weren't pals. We may have been siblings but only by blood. He wasn't my big brother anymore, he was way too far gone. Going into his mind was something I no longer wanted to do—because if he was that far gone, what if…what if I was capable of the same things?

The tears poured out then. With blurred vision I threw off my leggings and sweater and fuzzy socks, carefully putting on my formal icy dress. Pulling out my hair tie I thought of the Pole and the next thing I knew I was in a warm red and green room, a confused Bernard sitting at his desk and looking awful, might I add.

"You look like sleet," I blubbed.

"Takes one to know one, you look worse. What's wrong?" Bernard asked, coming around from his desk and helping me up—I had been too distracted to teleport neatly like I wanted to and had missed the couch by a few feet and now laid sprawled out on the floor, deep blue skirt fanned around me, hair as messy as the papers all over the floor.

I laughed through a snotty nose and tears, sniffling. Grabbing his hand and pulling myself up into a sitting position, I looked him right in the eye.

"Do you think I'm bad?" I blurted out, sniffling once more. Bernard looked stunned; he stared at me, disbelieving.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Jacqueline, you're about as bad as a pile of puppies."

I smiled, wiping my nose on the back of my sleeve. "Thanks."

"It's what I'm here for. What made you think that?" Bernard asked, staring at me. Understanding dawned, and he sighed.

"She brought up the link again, didn't she?"

I nodded once more, tears threatening to begin again. "I keep telling her that I don't wanna use it and she keeps mentioning that I should and I don't wanna go in his mind and see how far gone he really is and I—"

"Jacquie, stop. Breath. It's gonna be okay," Bernard interrupted, helping me up and grabbing me in a warm embrace.

I tried to calm down, but two things happened in that moment that made me completely freeze (pun intended). The first thing that happened was silence; I stopped sniffling and stood as rigid as an icicle. Bernard was…hugging me? Someone was hugging me? It was the strangest thing…but I felt comforted and hugged back tightly, letting myself cry a bit more. Just a bit, though, otherwise B-Man would never let me live it down. The second thing that happened was that the way Bernard addressed me—Jacquie—clicked somewhere in my brain. Jacquie is a nickname that Elle came up with for me and everyone just shrugged and accepted it; it stuck. Before Elle, everyone just called me Jacqueline (which is a huge mouthful, really). But Bernard had just…

I broke out of the hug and looked at him, questioning.

"You just called me Jacquie."

"Do you not like it?"

"I don't mind it. It's just…why did you call me Jacquie?"

He shrugged, looking genuinely confused. "I…I don't know. It just kinda fit. It felt right?"

"Oh." I had this small feeling of hope deep down—Bernard was calling me Jacquie…did that mean that perhaps _he_ remembered, if only a little bit?

Deciding not to push my luck, I smiled and wiped my tears with my sleeve. "Don't worry about it, B-Man. Jacquie's an okay nick name. I like it."

"Well I do put up with all kind of nicknames from you," he said, a faint smile on his face. "And could you not use your sleeve? Seriously, that's disgusting," he said, grabbing tissues off of his desk.

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled, gratefully taking one and using it. It felt nicer than my cold sleeve, admittedly.

"Mother Nature asked you about the connection again," Bernard began, leaning on his desk with his arms crossed.

I sighed. "Yeah. She wanted to know if I'd look in his mind because he called an emergency meeting for tonight."

"I know, it's why I look like sleet, as you so…_eloquently _put it." I snorted. "I've been trying to track him down but Santa's missing. We'll have to wait until this meeting for…well, _anything_ now."

"We're finally getting our answers tonight." I laughed, a hollow sound. "She wanted me to go into his mind and help the Council not go in blind but I don't want to go in there…well, you know why. It scares me."

We had had this conversation before (well, kinda). When Jack first began his scheming and Bernard and I were at a loss, one of his first suggestions was to use the connection—assuming I still had it. I had flat out refused and ended up angrily confessing my deepest fear to Bernard of all people—that I was afraid of myself. Of course, after that we left it be; he didn't bring it up again. See, that's the great thing about Bernard. He'll listen and then try to forget an emotional encounter had happened. Well, not forget…just file it away in his big ish brain and only bring it up again ever should the need arise. And then with that information filed away in that great big head of his, he can tell when something is off and what the cause is. It's what made him such a great elf, really; his brain is a giant library and he's incredibly observant. Don't tell him I said that.

"Yeah. I know. It would scare me too, were I in your boots."

"What if I am capable of being like Jack?" I asked. "What if I end up like him?" I sunk down to the floor and sat against his desk, head back against the wood, staring at the ceiling.

"Jacqueline," Bernard began, sinking down beside me. "We've talked about this before. You're nothing like him."

"I'm literally almost exactly like him! I was his _Legate_ for frosts sake!"

"And now you're a Legend. You may have been his Legate, and sure you look like him and have the same elemental affinity as him, but you're not him. I look at you, and I don't see a frozen, angry, pompous, annoying, vain Popsicle. I see…"

"A pile of frozen puppies?"

Bernard chuckled. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go with that. _Lively_ frozen puppies. Besides, I know for a fact you won't end up like your brother."

"Oh? How so?"

"I wouldn't let you," he said. His tone was…scary, to be honest. It was stern and steady and there was a lot of force behind it, reader. Despite the general foreboding feeling of what he said, I smiled.

"Thanks B-Man," I said, earnestly.

"What are friends for?" He shrugged, reaching over his head and feeling up the top of his desk.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I think…you could use a drink," he said, pulling a small bottle and two brandy glasses down from his paper covered desk.

"We both could, quite honestly," I said, holding the glasses as he poured, plopping the bottle on the floor beside us.

"Here's to tonight, I guess," He said. "We'll finally get answers."

"Cheers to that," I mumbled, clinking glasses with him and taking a sip. "Answers indeed."

* * *

As we sipped our drinks, both of us thinking the same thing—that we weren't quite sure we _wanted_ answers—Bernard asked me about my encounter with Momma N. I told him about it and in turn asked him about his hunt for Santa. I thought my day was bad, his had been infinitely worse. And yet he still took the time out of his day to reassure me—what an elf. We didn't get drunk on brandy, in case you were wondering, dear reader. I'm sure you'd love to hear about that, though! Which is why I must be the bearer of bad news and inform you that it takes quite a lot to get an elf and a sprite _drunk_ (we're distant cousins, you know, and we can handle our liquor).

Nonetheless, all too soon it was time for the meeting. At a quarter to six I realized that I had completely forgotten I was meeting Mother Nature outside. Bernard had completely forgotten that there was work to do. So after checking in with Quentin to make sure things were going all right—well, as all right as could be nowadays—he walked me to the courtyard to meet up with Mother Nature.

"Ah, Jacqueline. Nice and prompt. And Bernard, lovely to see you."

"Likewise," Bernard said. "Though I wish it was under better circumstances."

"As do I. What's the status?"

As we walked to the meeting room, Bernard caught Mother Nature up on what Jack was up to. He informed her that Jack had been missing all day. He had called the meeting that morning then simply up and vanished. Bernard had poofed everywhere Jack frequented, trying to hunt him down, but to no avail. Mother Nature listened quietly, nodding when appropriate and listening patiently.

"I can only assume he'll be here now, and unfortunately I couldn't tell you what it is he's been up too."

"And your efforts have been great. Both you and Jacqueline. Unfortunately for us, there's no predicting him. At least now we'll be getting our answers, though most of us have a feeling that they won't be good."

"We don't think so either," I said, sighing as we entered the room.

Everyone was assembled already, sans Jack, of course. You would think that seeing Mother Nature—one of the heads of like almost everything in Crystal Springs—would shut everyone up. But of course like most things with the council, it had the opposite effect. Instantly everyone was on her, asking questions and talking over one another. Even Sandman was awake.

Mother Nature sighed. She glanced at me, and put a hand on my shoulder. I raised my eyebrow—what was she doing?

"Before I deal with this mess," she said, "I wanted to apologise properly for…earlier. I shouldn't have asked you what I asked you to do. I know how you feel about it and…it wasn't proper of me. I'm sorry, Jacqueline."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "It's okay Grandmother. I know you're at your wit's end. We all are."

"All is forgiven then?"

"Yes grandmother," I said, smiling. Forgiven to a point. I mean, hopefully she wouldn't ever ask me ever again. Ev_er_.

"Good," she said. She squeezed my shoulder one last time before making her way to the head of the table. I glanced at Bernard briefly; he wore a very identical look of surprise. Shrugging, we made our way to our posts—his being standing just behind Santa's right, and mine being sitting to the left of Santa.

"Would all of you _please_ shut it?" Mother Nature said. Instantly, silence fell. I raised an eyebrow—she was not happy, that's for sure.

"Thank you. Since Santa was the one who called the meeting, he is the one who must officially start it. Seeing as how, as per the norm he's currently missing in action, we'll take this time for a _brief _question period. Now _one_ at a time, can we do that? Pick a spokesperson or something, _please_."

The Council shared a look; Father Time barred Cupid's way forward with his staff (though it's really more of a crooked stick), glancing at Sandman. Taking this as his cue, Sandman sighed and stood up.

"I guess I've been voted spokesperson then. Alright." He cleared his throat and began more confidently, "I speak on behalf of all the Council when I ask this. Do you know why this meeting was called? Have we gotten any closer to figuring out what Santa's been doing?" Sandman glanced at me; I stared back, mustering my best Winter look. He looked away, glancing back at Grandmother.

"Unfortunately, no. Bernard, Jacqueline and I have been hard at work trying to figure this mess out; Santa is…crafty," she said carefully. "We haven't made much headway."

"Jack Frost could help us, if she'd look into Santa's mind!" Easter snapped.

"Excuse me?" I demanded.

"I'm with the gerbil on this one," Cupid said, shoving Father Time's stick away and flying right in front of me. The elder man growled; Cupid waved it off.

"Excuse _me_? _Gerbil?_" Easter demanded.

"It would make all of our lives easier! None of us know what he's up too, and she still has the link!"

"Well what makes you even _think_ I want to use it, diaper boy?" I snapped, having gotten over the initial shock of being called Jack Frost. I mean sure I was, but only in title; I always forgot how formal the Council could sometimes be.

"This isn't a diaper!" Cupid snapped.

"It looks diaper-ish," Tooth ventured.

"But it _isn't_ one!"

"Don't get your diaper in a knot there, Cupid," Bunny snickered.

"You know, these arrows aren't just for making people fall _in love_," Cupid snapped.

"Would the two of you stop it?" Mother Nature said. "Let's get back on topic here."

"Yes, lets," I said.

"Jacqueline—"

"Grandmother, please," I said. I could sense her warning look without even glancing at her. It felt like it was melting the back of my dress. (It might have literally been doing that, come to think of it). "Let me educate these two pompous poof balls here. Tell me, if your sibling was an evil blizzard brain with no regard for anybody's feelings but his own, who had been trying to overthrow another Legendary for centuries, who betrayed their family and stabbed you, _literally_, _in the gut_, and then decided—once he overthrew said legendary, _illegally_ I might add—" I was briefly interrupted by a few eye rolls and groans, "—that he could just waltz back right in with a fancy new title and that everything would be better, completely disregarding the feelings of yourself, and more importantly your _parents_, would you want to get right into their head and know their deepest most innermost thoughts?"

The whole table was quiet.

"No. I thought not," I said, glaring icicles at them.

"Jacqueline, the table," Bernard said, first to break the silence.

"Hmm?" I glanced down. I had frozen a good portion of the surface around me. I blushed. "Sorry," I said, lifting my hands off the table and shoving them in my lap, sitting back down—when had I stood up?

"You could have just done the whole table, you know. It looks better that way."

We all turned to the door, where the voice had come from—Jack had arrived.

"Well look who finally decided to show up!" I snapped.

"Actually on second thought, It looked better before. Thanks for destroying my table, Jacqueline." Jack replied, gesturing to the frozen spot at the table. "It was mahogany, too..."

I growled. Jack ignored me. How _rude_.

"Now then, shall we get started?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Great! Elves, bring it in!"

With a snap of his finger, the five elves Jack had recruited came through the doors carrying a large wooden platform, covered by a sheet.

"Perfect. Right on top of the table, just slide it on," Jack told them. The name plaques went flying off the table, files following; they landed in a heap at the hem of Mother Nature's dress. She did not look amused; the whole Council glanced away from her cautiously.

"What is the meaning of this, Santa?" she demanded.

"Shoo," Jack said to the elves. They scattered; Bernard watched them go, a look on his face I couldn't quite place.

"Santa." Mother Nature said again.

"You can't just demand me to start! I had this whole spiel planned and everything!"

Half the council rolled their eyes. Mother Nature glared and I swear I heard thunder outside.

"Fine. Let's hear it. Come now, out with it."

"Ladies and gents. Fur balls, babies, fairies, and annoying little sisters."

"It is not a diaper!" Cupid defended.

"Ignoring that," Jack continued, walking around the table slowly. "Santa's Village. Santa's Workshop. Santa's Enchanted Forest," he began, stopping beside a Council Member with each phrase. "I'm sure all of these names sound familiar to you. Famous Christmas themed amusement parks with a fake Santa at the helm. They draw numerous amounts of people in every year, with their bogus Santa's, non authentic toys and phoney elves…"

"I don't like where this is going," Bernard murmured, having made his way to my side.

"That makes two of us. Maybe more," I said, hazarding a glance around at the table.

"They have it quite easy, those fancy mall Santa's," Jack continued, between Mother Nature and Father Time now. "I've been doing some thinking—it's not all cracked up to be, the Santa thing. So much work, one night a year. And do I ever get any appreciation? Any hugs from children, any presents?"

"What about the cookies?" Easter asked.

"Fattening," Santa replied.

"And sugar filled cavity causers," Tooth mentioned.

"Exactly! Is that really a thank you? There's no appreciation for me!"

"So not much has changed then," I mumbled. Bernard coughed loudly, hiding a smile. Less disguised snickers briefly spotted the table.

"Ignoring that _too,_" Jack growled, behind me now. "So I thought to myself, what if I did what the fancy mall Santa's did? What if I brought the children to me?"

"No," Bernard said. "You're not going where I think you're going with this."

"Ladies, gents, fur balls, babies, fairies and annoying little sister, I give you, the newest—and one hundred percent authentic—Christmas theme park: The North Pole!" with a flourish, he rounded the table (back by his seat now) and pulled the sheet off of the bumpy platform, revealing a full scale diorama of the North Pole. With a wave of his hand, the diorama lit up; and it was…it was _awful_.

"The Village Square will be where it all takes place! Ticket gates here in front of the workshop, here they can tour the workshop and make their own toy…Look at this!" He said, gesturing to the model. "We can make a tidy little profit with parents bringing their kids to make sure they're on the nice list and get their toys! It's brilliant. _I_ am brilliant."

"Excuse me?" Mother Nature said. Cupid fell out of the air, right onto the floor. Sandman looked faint; Bunny had gotten up and stepped back, knocking Tooth Fairy right out of his seat. Mother Nature and Father Time looked…beyond stunned. I was _mortified_.

"No. Absolutely not. No, no, no and no! Santa, do you have any idea how wrong this is?" Bernard began, nobody stopping him; everyone was too shocked to say anything. "Not only are you breaking the Secret of Santa, but if you were even able to get _away_ with this—which you _won't_ be—you would destroy Christmas as we know it!"

"Kids would lose their belief," Father Time spoke up, his eyes gazing off into time. "There is so much potential for this to end badly. Naughty kids will be at an all time high and those less fortunate would stop believing in _everything,_ not just Santa. You could potentially destroy all of magical culture as we know it. Perhaps, worst possible case scenario, the World."

Jack faltered for a minute; a brief, brief minute. "But that probably won't happen, you're always saying time is delicate and can be subject to a lot of change and whatever old man mumbo-jumbo that comes out of your mouth."

Father Time growled, for lack of a better word for the sound he made. He opened his mouth to begin, but Mother Nature gently touched his shoulder, shushing him.

"Jack," she said, forgoing all formality. "What in the world makes you think this will pass? What made you think we would even allow this?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was a good pitch. Imagine the profit we could turn out! We could split the profits, you know. Maybe forty for you lot, sixty for me. You can use it to fix up Crystal Springs or whatever. It's great, really! Kids would come here from _everywhere_ to see the real, live Santa Claus! Me!"

"Except that you're not!" I spoke up, getting up from my seat.

"Here we go again," Cupid said. I ignored, him; it was much too late to try and reason with me, I was already fired up.

"But I am!"

"No, you're not! You're not supposed to be Santa!" I had stood up again, glaring at Jack. "If I wasn't sure before, then I'm positive now. If you were the right Santa, you wouldn't want to turn the North Pole into a _theme park_! You'd want to preserve it and do what Santas have done for _centuries_! But instead, you're slacking and finding it too much work! Look at this!" I said, gesturing to the diorama. "The real Santa wouldn't want this! This makes you no better than the fancy mall Santas! In fact, it makes you the _fanciest_ mall Santa!"

"You take that back!"

"_Never_."

"Jacqueline, Santa, _enough_."

We both turned to look at Mother Nature; she was furious. Her face was flushed, her eyes flashed and there was definitely thunder happening somewhere outside.

"Jacqueline, back down please."

"But Mother Nature—"

"Back down. You're literally on top of the table!"

"Yeah Jacqueline, _back down_."

"Don't you dare, Santa," Mother Nature snapped.

Jack was silenced; he backed away, arms crossed. I had indeed been kneeling on the table; the tiny trees were hurting my knees through the thick fabric of my dress. I got down, arms crossed, and stood, looking anywhere but Jack.

"This idea is incredibl—"

"Incredible? I know! I came up with it."

"_No_ Jack! Incredib_ly_ stupid. Dangerous, awful…I have no words to describe how bad this is, that's how bad it is!"

"The real Santa wouldn't do this!" I said again.

"Okay, Jacqueline, you need to chill," Jack said. "Can we escort her out?" he asked the Council.

"Excuse me?!"

"She's harshing my mellow. Ruining my funky flow. Or whatever kids say these days."

"You can't just kick a Council Member out of a meeting—"

"Perhaps he has a point," Father Time said. "Jacqueline, do not take offense to this. It is best we handle this without you here."

If it had come from anyone other than Father Time I would have been offended; but he was probably right. I wasn't making things move any faster, I was too angry at this—a theme park? Can you believe it reader? What made him think this was even a good idea in the first place?!

"Fine," I snapped, storming off.

"Jacqueline, wait!"

I stopped, turning back. "Yes Mother Nature?"

"Are you sure you're...okay to teleport?"

I froze, a bunch of rude retorts popping into my head. Bernard interjected before I could use any of them, though.

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," he said, running up to Grandmother and I. "I'll be back soon, just _don't_ let this pass and _don't_ tell any of the other elves about this. I'll deal with that later."

"It won't pass," she whispered back.

"Also, don't do anything to the elves that were helping Jack. They weren't doing it of their own free will."

"I will leave that to you, Bernard."

"Thanks. Let's go, Jacqueline."

I followed him out of the Workshop quietly, still seething in anger. I let him do the teleporting, despite how weird it was—I was use to a nice cold breeze, but when he poofs from one place to the other it's warm and…_squishy_. We ended up right outside the door to my rooms; Bernard was on point. The moment I opened the door into my sitting room, the shock wore off.

"I cannot _believe_ this! Where do I even begin?! They just kicked me out of a _meeting_! And all I did was tell them the truth—that Jack isn't the real Santa," I opened the door to my bedroom and rushed into my closet. I changed out of my formal clothes and threw other clothes around. I'm sure it was incredibly weird for Bernard, just outside my sitting room and hearing all of these loud bangs and weird rustling sounds.

"Everything okay in there?"

"Yes! Fine, just _fine_!" I said. I rejoined him in the sitting room, dressed in my on the job attire. "They kicked me _out_. I cannot _believe_ this, It's so unfair! They don't believe me about Jack not being legit! How can they _not_ believe me when they all don't want him as Santa _either_?!" I walked back and forth, a pair of fluffy white socks in my hands. "Why does nobody believe me? I'm _not_ crazy, he really isn't supposed to be Santa!"

"Jacqueline, calm down, okay? Listen to me. I know Jack isn't supposed to be Santa. I told you that, two years ago, remember?"

"Vaguely."

"The Santa before knew he wasn't going to come back that year. He felt it. He informed me that he wouldn't be coming back, that we should prepare for a new Santa, but he didn't give me a name, or a place. He never would have willingly given the jacket to Jack, though."

"So what, you suspect foul play?"

"I know there was foul play involved. I wouldn't go with straight up…"

"Murder? I wouldn't be surprised."

"You're saying that out of anger," Bernard pointed out.

"Yes! No! Maybe! I don't know, he almost killed me once during the Day of Darkness, so maybe he _is_ capable of it! Ugh, I just can't _believe_ this. Turning the Pole into a theme park?! They're never going to let this pass…right?"

"Over my dead body," Bernard replied. "Look. I know they kicked you out and it is unfair, but I will tell you what happens and I will make sure it doesn't get passed. You saw how angry Mother Nature was, Jacqueline. You heard Father Time's predictions! It won't pass. Now are you going to be okay if I leave? You won't do anything…I don't know…unpredictable? Drastic?"

"Probably not," I huffed.

"Good enough for me. Take care, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Bernard stared me down one last time before silently disappearing in a shower of golden sparks. Once he was probably out of earshot, I let out a frustrated shout. I was in so much disbelief, still. I was angry, and annoyed. Four years of Jack as Santa and still nobody had figured out what it is that he did that would have made him Santa, despite my one mention of a clause a few years back. I still hadn't figured it out and nobody else knew what I was talking about—maybe it had something to do with the real Santa being taken out of the picture.

It was too frustrating to try and figure out something that wouldn't _let_ me figure it out; I had storms to move and create and misplaced aggression to use _for_ said storms. So off I flew, out of the house and down to the States to unleash my snowy wrath.

The storms raged; eventually I flew home and back in my rooms, still angry. Some of the flurries followed me; I didn't pay them any mind. Instead I paced and paced through my room and really contemplated everything. I tripped over a pencil skirt I had thrown out of my closet earlier. Frustrated, I picked it up and was about to chuck it into the closet when I noticed my reflection in my mirrors.

Disheveled, storm-damp clothes, curly white ponytail a mess, anger in my eyes. Frozen and angry. I backed away; the image scared me. It reminded me of Pre-Santa Jack.

Pre-Santa Jack…

I looked at my reflection once more, putting the skirt up to my body. It looked _really _good; a little frost here and there, some ice…it would be wearable. I stared at my face and put my frozen curls on top of my head. A little work and just maybe…

I thought of my plan from last year. I thought of everything that had happened this year and everything that Jack had done…

And with that, I made my decision.

I froze myself over.

* * *

**A/N-Hello! Cue evil cackling! I have no idea when I said that this would be up (or when I updated last for that matter) but here you go, Year Four! And if you thought the last cliffhanger was bad...well, this one is far far worse ;). I do apologise for the length though; it did get out of hand and if you made it this far congratulations and I promise Year Five will not take as long! We're almost in season after all (can you believe it?)**

**Do drop a line! Tell me what you think! Speculate on the next year! Jacqueline is frozen-oh no! What will we do?! You'll all see soon enough ;)**

* * *

**DISCLAIMERS**

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Bernard, Mother Nature, Jack Frost or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost. Any resemblance she may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use her or any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****

****I also do not own the briefly mentioned Elle. She belongs to etiquette-faux-pas who has allowed me to use her in a few stories, so long as I return her relatively unharmed. ****


	6. Year Five

**A/N: 7,704 words sans edits, A/N's and disclaimers. Once more I do apologize. I fear the next six years of Frostmas will be quite lengthy.**

* * *

**Year Five**

I left you on another cliff-hanger there, didn't I?

If it makes you feel better reader, I didn't actually _freeze_ myself over. Before I get into it I find as per usual that some explaining is in order, isn't it?

Freezing oneself over is a special trait that only us Winter Sprites can do. Almost every Winter Sprite that has existed has been frozen over in some way in their life. The Winter Warlock was frozen—and then his heart was melted. The Snow Queen was frozen, but something softened her heart before she left for Rosehaven. The same thing that happened to the Snow Queen happened to Old Man Winter as well. I don't know if Mother Gaia's winter bringer, Snow, was ever frozen. He sure was a trouble maker though, according to history. Those four, they're long gone—sent off to Rosehaven when Mother Gaia exhumed her flawed system of balance and instituted a new one; now the only Winter Sprites in existence are myself, Winter, and Jack.

When a Winter Sprite freezes themselves, they become unfeeling; cold. Nothing could melt them unless they choose to do it themselves…or so it was thought for the longest time. Winter holds the record at a whopping grand total of three. She was found by Mother Nature (the current one) frozen; apparently born frozen. Her childhood with Grandmother and the other three seasons—her sisters and my lovely aunts—was warm and wonderful, and it melted her heart. The second time happened after the Great War—an ancient war that dates back to when the Frosts' were the royal family. Yeah, we're royalty. How cool is that? Back on topic now. Dad's a twin, born the same time as his brother (so it was never sure which one was the true heir). And his brother, Pyros is a little bit—a lot, actually—evil.

Eventually Pyros decided that he deserved the crown and started a centuries long war to take over the _world_. Winter was taken captive by Pyros along with her three sisters and Mother Nature made every effort to save her girls. They managed to break in but could only take one at a time; and while the other three, being older, insisted Winter go first, she put Autumn, Summer and Spring ahead of herself. And by the fourth day, Pyros was ready and fought them off; Winter was trapped.

Long story short, Blaise infiltrated Pyros' stronghold, found Winter, and the two hatched a plan to escape—one that led to the final battle of the long war, Blaise's bittersweet win, and the abolishment of the monarchy. But the toll of the imprisonment and whole war had done its number on Mom—she froze herself over. Of course as most fairy tales tell us, true love won out. Blaise courted Winter and thawed her heart. They got married, settled down, and then Jack and (much later) myself were born

The third time Winter froze herself over was after the Day of Darkness. I don't think I have to go much into detail about that. I'm sure by now reader, you know all about it. Was she ever unfrozen? I'm honestly not quite sure. In the present, she seems like it; in this past timeline she most assuredly was _not_.

Jack is…a special case. He was born frozen and had this evil streak driving him for most of his life. That evil streak was the doing of our Uncle Pyros; but that is another story for another day and in the _right_ timeline. Jack's frozen streak cumulated with his antics on the Day of Darkness; he never wanted to unfreeze himself, thanks to Pyros. In the right timeline he was defrosted—and by a little girl, to boot! But we'll get to that later.

Then there's me. I'm odd, in that when I was born I didn't seem to be frozen. As I grew up, I still was not frozen. So reader, I've never actually been frozen all my life. I'm probably the only winter sprite in existence who can say that. Quite the accomplishment if I do say so myself. Perhaps I was frozen in a more minuscule way; when Jack did unfreeze, I had the same effects happen to me. Just smaller. That made more sense in my head, to be honest. Oh well! Back on topic.

When I looked in the mirror that day after that awful meeting, I was afraid. Because all I saw in my angry reflection was Jack, back when he was Jack Frost in name and title and I was just Jacqueline Frost, a lonely Legate. And that's when I remembered my plan from last year—giving Jack a taste of his own medicine.

I had been mulling over the idea in my head for a year now; maybe longer. If there was one thing Jack did that every Santa hated, it was mess with the Workshop and just being a general nuisance. It was what Jack Frost was known to do, and every Santa was always forewarned about it.

Now that _I_ was Jack Frost, I kept thinking—what a better way to mess with him then to do _exactly what he did_ before he tricked the World into thinking he was Santa? I just couldn't quite do it out of the blue, not with how I'd reacted and how our relationship stood now. So I decided, if I froze myself over, perhaps Jack would find me more agreeable and I'd have a reason to stick around up North and wreak havoc.

There was just one problem.

I wasn't frozen and never had been, and I had seen what frozen winter sprites were capable of—there was no way I'd subject myself to _that_; it was my worst fear, being like Jack.

So I made it _look_ like I was frozen. I was nearly blue with all the layers of ice I was wearing; my eyes were cold and I found a…_sharper_ ensemble to wear, forgoing my lovely medieval inspired dress (that was one of my favourite historical times. I got accused of witchcraft _three_ _times_, what a _riot_) to a special spot in my closet. My curls, usually down and wild, were now up in not my usual messy on-the-job ponytail but a sleek ponytail with the curls neatly cascading in one blob down my back. I admired myself in the mirror—I looked good. I could definitely pass as a frozen winter sprite.

All I had to do now was test it.

* * *

"What's up, B-Man?"

Bernard stood in front of his desk, a frown on his face and deep in thought. At least, that's probably how he _was_ standing before I poofed in a small flurry of snowflakes and blue sparks and appeared out of the blue sitting with one leg over the other on the edge of his desk. When I greeted him over my shoulder, ponytail barely moving, he had tripped over his chair and fallen in one of his paper piles.

"What _happened _to you?!" Bernard asked, as soon as he had gotten up and really looked at me.

"You're head elf for a reason, you know. Take a guess."

Bernard stared at my appearance; icy nearly blue skin, hard blue eyes, the flowy dress gone in exchange for a fitted pencil skirt and underbust corset vest combination, a darker frozen blue than my dress normally was. My usually down hair was up in a neat ponytail and my light blue, worn leather boots switched out for dark blue, suede ankle boots with a thick heel.

"You didn't. No, no you _didn't_!"

"Didn't what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and repressing a smile. It was working!

"Freeze yourself over!"

"I did indeed," I began—but was cut off by Bernard.

"Jacqueline, _why_ would you do that? I know it's hard and nobody but me really believes you but this? He drove you to do _this?!_ You know how frozen sprites turn out, you're related to _two_!"

I hopped off of his desk and stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're either going to be like your Mom is when frozen—remote and aloof and sad, were your words exactly if I recall—_or_ you'll be exactly what you've feared! Jack! Oh, I knew I should've gone to see you sooner after the meeting to tell you what happened, then maybe I could've stopped you from doing this!" He finished, gesturing to all of me.

"Okay, you need to calm down, B-Man. Look at me _closely_. Do you really think I'm frozen?"

Bernard took a breather before rounding his desk and staring at me intently. There are two factors that tell you if a winter sprite is frozen or not—the eyes and the flushed cheeks. While I had made my eyes as cold as I could, I knew that if he looked closely he'd be able to see that they weren't actually hard; and despite my seven plus layers of ice, I knew he'd be able to see right through to my flushed cheeks—this was something elves specialized in, being able to see through illusions—especially an elf as high ranking (for lack of a better term) as Bernard.

"You almost had me fooled, Jacqueline," he finally said. I broke my cool façade and laughed.

"Then it's perfect!"

"If you're trying to look frozen then yes, it is. Care to explain?"

"Do you have time?"

"Never. But I'm currently on a small break, by which I mean I'm _hiding_, so take a seat," he said, gesturing to two armchairs surrounded by papers.

"Don't mind if I do, I _hate_ heels." I nearly jumped into the chair, sighing when the weight was off of my feet. I unzipped the sides and kicked off the boots, sighing happily again. "Aren't you gonna sit?" I asked.

"Depends. Is your plan here gonna shock me?"

"You know I'm actually…not quite sure. Maybe. Probably, actually. Probably."

Sighing, he sat down and looked at me expectantly.

"Okay. So I've been thinking about this since his visit two years back—"

"Even the frozen part?"

"No, that was a recent idea. Anyway, I've been thinking, Jack may be Santa now, but there's one thing that every Santa had that he doesn't currently have," I said, smirking. "A frozen pain in his side known as Jack Frost."

Bernard raised an eyebrow.

"I thought, you know, since I am Jack Frost now, perhaps I should _really_ live up to the name and give him a taste of his own medicine, if you catch my drift."

"You're going to try to hang around the Pole and annoy the tinsel out of Santa?"

"Exactly! I figured that over packed snow monster could use a taste of his own medicine! It was perfect, except for one tiny detail. Jack would _never_ let me stick around the way we stood, relationship wise. Not after the reunion last year and especially not after the meeting last month."

"I still have to tell you about that," Bernard mussed.

"It can wait until I'm done. Right so…where was I?"

"You couldn't stick around up here with the way you and Jack currently stand, relationship wise."

"Yes! Right! Thank you! So it occurred to me after the meeting that if I wanted to take a page out of his book, he'd have to think we were on good terms, or at least think I'd given up and accepted that he was now Santa. The only way I could possibly think of doing that is if I froze myself over. But—"

"You didn't want to actually do that because you've seen both ends of the scale of frozen sprite and didn't want to see where you would land."

"I didn't want to become Winter, nor Jack. I like being warm and mushy inside and I never, ever want to be like Jack. So I decided to fake it."

"And you did. Pretty successfully, I should add."

"Thanks!"

"That wasn't really a compliment."

"I'll take it anyway. Once I finally figured out the new look I thought I'd test it out, see if it worked."

"And you thought I was good authority for that?"

"Yes. Mainly because if I want to execute this properly, I'm going to need your help."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going anymore," he said.

"It's not—it's not _that_ bad!"

"I'm having a hard time believing that. Maybe before you lay it on me I should tell you what happened after you left the meeting. That sounds _safe._"

"My plan is safe! Probably…" I frowned; it _would_ be safe with Bernard's help…but maybe prior to going through with it I should hear what had happened. "Okay, make it fast. What happened after I left?"

"Well once I dropped you off I came right back and it was…I don't know if hectic or chaos is a better word. It was both, let's go with that. The whole Council had overturned his idea and refused to let it pass. Santa and Mother Nature were going back and forth a lot, the others chiming in every so often. Everyone agreed it was a big fat NO for them, but Santa, of course, reminded us that there are Council rules and it _has_ to be put to a vote."

"Did he really think that a vote would work out well for him?"

"Who knows what goes on in his head? I guess he had some small hope that maybe it would work out for him. But it was a definite NO after that, by a vote of six to one."

I could picture Jack smugly voting for himself; I almost laughed. Almost.

"So that ended that."

"Yup. It didn't pass, like I told you it wouldn't. Santa stormed off and the rest of the Council stuck around for a bit to cool off. They all agreed that we should keep a close eye on Santa, in case he gets the idea to do it despite the Council's ruling."

"It would be like the incident in Rome all over again," I recalled from many, many years ago. Well, stories; I hadn't even been born yet when it happened. It ended with Vesuvius erupting though and I really don't want to ask Blaise about it, not even in the _right_ timeline.

"Right, that. _Way_ before my time but I heard about it all right."

"That's _surprising_ since Blaise got rid of all record of Julius Blasius Frustums existing."

"_Almost_ all of them."

"Now by we did you mean the Council or—?"

"I meant us. Mother Nature and the others will keep tabs but you and I are closest to him, so we'll be keeping most of the tabs."

While normally a sentence such as that would make me very irritable, this time around I grinned.

"Then this," I began, gesturing to myself, "Is perfect! Not only can I mess around with him, I can also help keep closer tabs without getting the stupid connection question!"

"Are you sure this is going to work out?" Bernard asked.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well…I don't quite know how to phrase my thought here."

"Bernard, do you mean to tell me that you, of all the elves I know, are at a loss for words?"

"Currently, yes. That does happen, you know."

"Well, I don't know your thoughts but I promise I know what I'm getting into. If I'm going to make this work, I'm going to need your help."

Bernard hesitated; he looked like he wanted to talk more about my new appearance and potential consequences to my plan. I wish he had. Instead though, he sighed and let it be. "Alright," he said. "What did you have in mind?"

"Okay. This is probably about a three-step plan. First, we tell Jack I'm frozen and influence him to invite me over or something to prove it. Second, I gain his trust—" I stopped for a moment, breathing in. I really didn't want to gain his trust or be buddies with him or _anything_; but if I wanted to keep a closer eye on him, it had to be done, I told myself. "I gain his trust and visit more often. Then comes the third part, the part I'll need your help with the most…sabotage."

"You want me to help you sabotage my own workplace?"

"Yes and no. I don't want to put you guys behind or anything; I want to wreak havoc but not at a bigger cost, you know?"

"Careful sabotage? _Planned_ sabotage?!"

"Something like that, yeah. I need you to tell me what I can and cannot break, mess around with or mess up that way I successfully annoy Jack, but don't negatively impact the Workshop."

"Anything you do will have a negative impact, really," Bernard began. But the thought of someone giving Jack a taste of his own medicine was too tempting. "The idea is kind of appealing…I'm sure we can figure something out. I'll have to talk to the department heads and see where we're ahead, behind, on par and get back to you…tomorrow, probably. If anything, it'll be nice to see Jack's smug smile and lazy attitude challenged by a meddling winter sprite."

"Really? You'll help me out?"

"Well sure," Bernard said, smiling. "We can get ahead pretty fast around these parts."

I laughed. No matter how behind production got, they always came through and had enough toys for every Christmas-celebrating kid in the world.

"Perfect! Thank you so much, B-Man!"

"Don't thank me just yet," he said. "We still gotta establish your presence here up North first."

"Right. We'll cover that first, and then once I'm here…then the fun can _really_ begin.

* * *

Jack stormed through the Workshop, eyes peeled for any sign of his Head Elf—who he was very much questioning about his position. Shouldn't the Head Elf be at his beck and call twenty four-seven? The yes-iest of the little yes men?

Elves jumped out of his way as he made his way through Distribution, glowering at any elf that even tried to say hello to him, or even looked his direction. Santa had been very upset since the Council Meeting, they knew that; he had been prone to tantrums and punching the nearest piece of machinery to him. If had he had his frosty powers, there would very likely be a frozen elf garden blooming in his backyard, and he made _sure_ they knew that. All Jack knew at that moment was that most of the elves didn't realize he lacked the frosty powers, and that Bernard was _nowhere to be found_.

"When I get my hands on that elf I swear to Christmas he's gonna get the _tinsel_ lectured out of him."

Finally he spotted Bernard, talking to the head of Distribution in a hushed voice. Jack changed directions, stomping towards Bernard.

"Incoming, Bernard."

"Thank you Pia." He straightened his back as Pia ran off, and stared at Santa straight on.

"Afternoon sir," he said.

"Where have you been? I have been looking _everywhere _for you for at _least _an hour!"

"Sorry sir, we had a…disturbing incident this morning outside of Elfsburg. What was it you needed?"

"Disturbing incident? What, like an airplane of humans?"

"That would have been so much better," Bernard said. He looked _really _freaked out._ This could be serious_, Jack thought, though he very much refused to admit it.

"Then what was it? Tell me!"

The elves around Jack blanched at the raised voice; they stopped their work and looked at their head, fearful.

"Perhaps it would be best if we talked in _private_," Bernard snapped quietly, teeth clenched.

Jack cleared his throat. "Right. Yes. Come walk with me, Bernie," he said, his good humour returning. "And the rest of you back to work!"

With Bernard's nod, the elves—reassured only a little bit—went back to work, careful not to get in Santa's way.

"Now what seems to have happened? Is the North Pole in trouble? Have we been revealed to humans?" He asked.

"First of all, _you're_ the one in trouble, not the whole North Pole."

"Watch your tone, Bernie! I am, after all, your boss."

"Secondly," Bernard said sharply, ignoring Jack, "You'd love it if the humans revealed us, because then you could go ahead with your profit making, world-jeopardizing plan."

"This is true."

"Thirdly, _don't call me Bernie._"

Jack rolled his eyes. "So _have_ we been revealed? What's the _problem_?"

Bernard stopped in a quiet hallway and turned to look at Santa.

"Jack Frost."

"Yes, that's me, what about me?"

"Not you, _you're_ Santa Claus. Jack Frost."

"Oh. The tiny brat. Well, what of her? And why should I care?"

"She was seen outside of the dome earlier. Surveillance wasn't quite sure what she was up to, so they called me up and that's where I've been. Santa…you're not going to like this."

"Like what? Anything _she_ does involves her claiming that I'm _not_ Santa and _that_ is what I _don't_ _like_."

"She seems to have been frozen over," Bernard said quickly.

Jack, for once, was at a loss for words. "She—what?"

Bernard started walking away, balling his hands into fists. "She looks frozen. Her eyes are hard and her warmth is gone; she's _blue_. _Literally_!"

Jack was beginning to have one of those odd moments of clarity as he followed Bernard down the hall to Santa's office. _Jack's_ office now. She was frozen? But she had never _been_ frozen; if she was, then she chose to do it herself. Had he caused it? Had he driven her to close herself off from emotion?

_Think about this Santa_, said his anti-conscience. _If she is frozen then perhaps she might be a little more _agreeable_ to you…_

"Oh, that's a good point," Jack voiced out loud, his moment of clarity forgotten as suddenly as it had arrived.

"Pardon? Did you just imply that a frozen Frost is a _good_ thing?"

"I'm beginning to think it might be," Jack mussed. "Were you able to confirm it?"

"Not just yet. Why?"

"Keep an eye on the Dome. When she comes next to fix it, get pictures or something. I need to see for myself if she really is…frozen."

"Sure thing sir," Bernard said. "But why?"

"Does it _matter_, Bean Head?"

"No. I guess not."

"Good. We have an understanding, then. Now off you go, get that Surveillance team running!" Waving his hands in a general shooing motion, Santa wandered off to his office, not even waiting for the head elf to move.

Bernard watched him go, blinking. That had been…easier than he had thought. Jacqueline's plan was working—and that terrified him.

* * *

Jack paced in his office, back and forth. He paused at his desk every so often, looking at the pictures that had been captured of his sister on the outskirts. He had completely shut himself up from everyone for the past few days, trying very hard to ignore his anti-conscience and think things through.

From the pictures, Jack could tell that if anything, his sister _looked_ frozen. He was concerned that perhaps it may be a ruse; a way for her to get in and figure out what he was up to and perhaps, if she was smart enough—and Jack thought she was—piece together the whole story, which was something he could _not_ let her do.

Though Jack had to admit he was surprised nobody had thought of the Escape Clause; especially Father Time. He figured it had something to do with the complexities of the Clause. He almost cursed himself for missing that meeting; _almost_. It didn't matter. He was Santa now! He had it all…and he had bigger problems at hand.

Jacqueline was only the tip of the iceberg; with the Council's refusal of the North Pole Theme Park, Jack had been walking on thin ice. He knew that Bernard was going to be keeping a close eye on him and reporting to the Council when they asked. It was like being babysat and Jack was not impressed. He was Santa! Santa didn't _need_ a babysitter...nor did he want one. He was still piecing together all of his plans, of course. Some uptight Legendary figures saying no wouldn't stop him.

It was just a matter of time.

And as for Jacqueline…well, if he wanted to know for sure if she was frozen, he'd have to talk to her himself. In a month she'd be back at the walls, and Jack…he'd be waiting.

* * *

I trailed my fingers across the icy dome, watching as my equally icy touch brightened up the walls, the northern lights glowing. The outskirts of Elfsburg were very quiet; it was a peaceful retreat and there was nothing that could ruin it for me. Absolutely nothing.

"So the rumours are true," said a voice.

I stand corrected. Breathing in, reminding myself of my frozen façade, I stopped and turned around, as expressionless as possible. "Depends on the rumours," I replied.

"I think you know the ones."

I raised an eyebrow and continued my walk around the Dome. I heard snow crunch behind me; Jack had followed me, and was now walking alongside me. I glanced over at him and resisted the urge to punch him in the face. He was so smug, walking leisurely beside me with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. I'm not sure if he realized it but he was slowly starting to wear more Christmassy colours; the red button shirt and the silver tie were a bit of a clashing mess. It was strange to see him in something other than that heinous red robe or the Santa jacket itself.

"There are many rumours going around, you know. Rumour has it Canada is in for a green Christmas this year. Rumour has it you've decided to drop the North Pole Theme Park idea. It was a sleet-filled idea anyway."

"It is a brilliant idea! It's just a little fine tuning and getting past certain people, and a better name of _course_…but that's not the rumour I want to talk about, _ma __sœur_. Rumour in the Pole is that you've frozen yourself over."

I gasped. "Oh my! How _awful_."

"They seem to think so. I'm more of an opened minded person, and I do care so much about this place," he said, stopping and staring down at the village.

I snorted. "Of course you do."

"You know, you are quite the sarcastic snowman today. It must be true then, hmm?"

I stopped and turned around, arms crossed. "You're a frozen winter sprite too, under all that padding." I poked his stomach for good measure. "You tell me."

Now was the moment of truth. Jack walked up to me, staring intently into my eyes. Surprise registered for a moment; then his gaze moved to my cold cheeks, not a smidgen of rosy red bleeding through the cold pale blue.

"You really did it," he said. He sounded shocked.

"I really did," I replied, continuing my walk. I had to withhold the grin that was threatening to burst through; I had passed the ultimate test—Jack believed I was truly frozen. Relief surged through me, quickly replaced by an odd sense of foreboding. I tried to ignore it and focus on Jack, who still walked beside me, thoughtful.

"You don't have time to chat, do you?" Jack asked, after an uncharacteristic stretch of silence. I was surprised he had asked at all, instead of launching into a long winded monologue I would have had the misfortune to listen to on my normally lovely walk around the walls. This meant one of two things: either he was being careful or he was planning _something_.

"Not really, no. I have things to do. Keep these walls bright, keep the icicles in tip top shape, prevent spring from coming anytime soon, and plan December's storm for Canada's usual _white Christmas_, of course," I said, deciding to nip that rumour in the bud while I was at it. Green Christmas? Not while my frosty behind was taking care of snow business.

"Ah yes, of course. My opening act."

My eye twitched. I took a breather. "Can't be yours if you're not in it," I said, smirking.

Now it was Jack's turn to take a deep breath. He was _really_ planning _something_, though I didn't know what.

"Then perhaps later you could stop by later? Have some low-fat cocoa, some oatmeal cookies?" I stopped and gave him a skeptical look.

"I'm watching my figure!"

"Of course. Because Santa definitely has to watch his _figure_."

"_This _one does."

"If you say so."

"Now back to me. I mean, my offer."

I made a show of thinking, scratching my chin and looking up thoughtfully. "I might have some time later. Assuming the cocoa is _normal_ and not some hippy healthy cocoa. Gr_oss_."

"Don't knock it until you try it! It tastes almost the same as normal cocoa," Jack said, wounded. "Regular cocoa could be arranged, of course. I'm nothing but accommodating."

"Then maybe later," I answered. "If I'm feeling it. Now if you'll _excuse_ me…" And with that, I continued walking alongside the Dome. Jack turned on his heel and made his way back to the workshop.

As soon as he was out of sight, I smirked. _Well played Jacqueline_, I thought, continuing my walk. _Well played_.

* * *

As Jack walked away, he smirked. _Well played Jack_, he thought. _Well played_.

_Incredibly_ _well_ _so_, he thought. The amount of times he had to bite back defences! His poor ego was more than wounded and he would definitely have to take the rest of the day off to recover from this uncomfortable encounter. There was, of course, one very big pro for him though, despite the wounded ego.

He had seen for himself and he could confirm that the rumours were true—Jacqueline was frozen solid. It was too elaborate for her to _fake_ it. Most importantly, her accusations were gone, replaced instead by well placed jabs to his character, though he'd _never_ admit that to her face. More or less all pros for him; he must be right. This frozen Jacqueline thing would definitely be good for him.

Granted, having her close by probably would make it harder for him to go about his plans. But he had been thinking about that; Jacqueline hadn't been at the meeting when Mother Nature warned that they would be keeping an eye on him. And if Jacqueline was anything like he thought her to be, she wouldn't have gone back to ask Mother Nature what she missed; she would be furious and take her anger out on some unsuspecting rural town.

With his power shorting and her power surging, Jack finally had the means to make his threats a little more serious. Doubt still lingered, though. He had seen it with his own eyes; but for Jacqueline to suddenly freeze…well, there had to be a reason. And that was Jack's goal for tonight, _assuming_ she was "feeling it", whatever that meant.

"Teenagers," he mumbled out loud, ignoring the fact that Jacqueline was not a teenager and had not been for nearly half a century. "Such nuisances."

* * *

I didn't go too far from the Workshop, after that. I stayed on the outskirts of Elfsburg, enjoying the silence and piles of snow covering the ruins of Old Elfsburg. I wasn't around back when the first colony of Elves lived there; they weren't Christmas Elves, at the time. They were fierce warriors, like in shows and stuff; they were one of the big factors that led to Blaise winning the Millennia War.

Out in the snowy ruins, I paced quietly, enjoying the light flurry I had kept up North all day. Jack had said to stop by tonight, so naturally I decided to be fashionably late. The trouble was, of course, Jack's definition of tonight—the Pole was in the middle of a polar _day_ so it was unnaturally bright for nearly ten at night, Crystal Springs Standard Time. I yawned and stretched, my limbs cracking in a few places. Felt great after a long day of scattered flurries. Especially with Aunt Spring interfering and making it rain instead. She never listens to the stupid Groundhog, not unless Mom lends a helping hand. This was not one of those years.

One more stretch and I decided to poof on over. I thought about where Jack would be right now—perhaps a spa, if Elfsburg had one. Maybe in his bed, complaining about how awful I was and how I _wounded_ his ego. At least, I hoped that was the case. With the picture of Jack moping in his blankets like a distressed child giving me a case of the giggles, I imagined one of the sitting rooms in the Workshop and found myself, well, _sitting_ in it.

I heard voices approaching; I giggled once more quickly before putting on my cool façade and awaiting the voices to enter.

"—really think she's gonna come at all, Santa?"

"It's _sir_ to you, Bernie. And yes! Now I am going to retire for the evening and if you see that snowy brat around you send her right over. Keeping me waiting like this after such a _distressing _encounter. Absolutely rude!" The door opened and Jack came in, flustered and scowling. The moment he saw me his face briefly became expressionless.

"I believe you mean _cold_. Not _rude_. I'm right on time, really." I leaned back into the chair, hands clasped. "You said later. Here I am," I said, unclasping my hands with a flourish.

"Either way, it's about _time_."

"Meh, time is a meaningless concept anyway. Now I was promised cocoa and cookies, where are they?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, thrown off by my new behaviour. He marched to the door and shouted after Bernard. I only caught every other word—something about cocoa, tiny elf woman and to make it fast. The door slammed and Jack, after pacing, sat across from me. It was silent and eventually a staring contest ensued. Jack looked like he was thinking very hard and very fast. Finally Judy appeared with cocoa and cookies; she set everything up for us, not interrupting our little contest.

"You and I both know this could go on forever. Let's get down to business, shall we?" I said, helping myself to (thankfully normal) hot cocoa.

"Well then I'll just cut to the chase, shall I?" I waved Jack on, sipping the cocoa. He helped himself to cocoa and a cookie as well.

"Be my guest."

"Why did you do it?" Jack asked straight away. "What on Earth made you decide to do this?" he gestured to all of me.

"I thought it was obvious," I said, biting back anger. "You did, Jack."

"Excuse me?"

"I admitted defeat. You've won."

"Beg pardon?"

Jack looked stumped. I sighed heavily, uncrossing my legs and getting up, beginning to pace with my cocoa still in hand. (North Pole cocoa is very good, there's no way you can put it down and forget about it while ranting to your evil brother who is under the impression that you are now evil as well).

"Well, let's see Jack, shall we? You became Santa. Nobody knows how though they have a feeling you shouldn't be Santa. Nobody will believe me when I say you did it illicitly, despite the fact, of course, that we _all_ know it's true. However you did it _was_ illegal."

"Perhaps," Jack began. "I think—"

"I'm not done yet," I said, cutting him off. "It's been what, five years with you as Santa? And for five years I've been out Jack Frosting, bringing winter everywhere which is really a lot of work—"

"And no appreciation, right?"

I breathed in sharply, cringing as I spoke these next few words. "None whatsoever! And on top of that, nobody believes me about you? I've had it with all this shoving aside of Jacqueline. You've stopped me in every way possible and so, I did it. I froze myself over. I conceded defeat."

"So what, you're just giving up?"

"Yup." _No._

"Just like that?"

"Yup." _Nope._

"No more accusations or glowering at me or anything like that?"

_Not in the near foreseeable future_. "None whatsoever," I said, false smile in place.

"Wow," Jack said, at a loss for words. He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "I knew patience would win out."

I raised an eyebrow and turned away. He was so _infuriating_.

While I was trying to cool down, Jack was thinking as well. Somehow I had convinced Jack that I was indeed sincere and admitting defeat. He had decided that this new Jacqueline would be very beneficial to him; he didn't know why, but he did know that I would say yes to his offer. And I knew that I would accept it, too. Because I needed to keep tabs on him, and I _needed_ to give him a taste of his own medicine while I was at it. i needed to do this for the good of nearly everyone.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

"Well then, let's say all is forgiven."

I was thrown off guard. "Huh?"

"Accusations and fights and such between us, forgiven for now. I need your help, Jacqueline."

"Oh?" I was still incredibly dumbfounded.

"I'm having a bit of a…frosty situation. Well, lack there of."

I sat down. "Interesting. Am I to presume that means that you're powers aren't quite working?" I let a grin slip through; the thought of Jack being powerless at something that was usually his forte pleased me to no extent.

"Yes. But I'm still legendary and-and all powerful! Just not in the icy way."

I laughed. It was cold; something I wouldn't realize until much too late.

"So you need me to do some snowy things for you here at the Pole?"

"Yes. You could stay here for the time being and help me out. You know, scaring a few tiny yes-men, redecorating, that sort of thing. Restoring a bit of order around here and helping me to show these elves who really is the boss. What do you say?"

I made a grand show of thinking about what he said, once again. I paced, scratched my chin thoughtfully, made sure there were lots of "hums" and "ohs" and "I don't knows". Despite the show however, I was deep in thought, though I knew I'd agree to his terms. I wasn't too keen on the scaring the elves and restoring Jack's version of order. Who _knew_ what could entail? I didn't quite want to find out. Perhaps I could delay _that_ little bit, if anything.

"So I'd be what, a frosty bodyguard for a formerly frosty Santa?"

Jack cringed, probably biting back several defensive remarks. _That was a good blow Jacquie_, I thought, grinning.

"If you _have_ to put it that way then yes."

"Alright. Sure. I'll do it."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Uh…yeah." I shrugged. "I've got nothing left to loose, might as well add _scary body guard_ to my repertoire or whatever."

"Well then, make yourself at home I guess," Jack said, getting up. "I have had a stressful day and am going to—"

"Sulk in your man cave, yeah yeah. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"Retire to my quarters!" Jack snapped. "I don't _sulk_." Without a goodnight, Jack walked out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

As soon as he was out of earshot, I collapsed on the nearest sofa and exhaled. I almost screamed in annoyance; but that would definitely call _someone_ back here. The day had been exhausting and there was a lot of emotions going on for me at that moment. I was angry; he was so _smug_ thinking he had defeated me _that_ easily. And annoying, expecting me to be here on the double cause he was all _Legendary_ now. So was I!

I stopped myself. I was veering into dangerous waters, sure to hit a giant iceberg if I kept going down this train of thought. So instead I poofed with Bernard in mind. I appeared just outside the Workshop, on the trail out of Town Square to the settlement area, Bernard a few paces ahead of me.

"Who does he think he _is_?" I snapped angrily, catching up to the slightly startled elf in no time at all.

"Santa. I guess it went bad?"

"Yes? No? Ugh, I don't know. He was all "well then all is forgiven" and sort of recruited me as a bodyguard. But like "all is forgiven", um, _excuse me? _I didn't even apologize!"

"But you did manage to get an all-access pass to the North Pole. Little successes, right?"

"I suppose," I said, cooling off. "Where are we going?"

"I was just going home for a bit."

"You have a home? I thought you lived in the workshop."

"I do, but despite contrary belief I also happen to have a house in Elfsburg."

"Well, fancy that."

"You still seem miffed."

"I don't know. I mean I accomplished what I set out to do but…I'm concerned, Bernard. Jack wants to restore order, and I don't know about you but that just doesn't sound nice at all."

"It probably won't be. But we'll figure ways around whatever he tries to do. Well planned sabotage has been in progress for about two months now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. A bunch of the younger elves were super eager to bother Santa and had a lot of ideas. It's a good way for them to get their pranks out of their systems, too. Something tells me this is going to be quite the eventful year," Bernard said with a smile. "We'll have to see where it goes."

* * *

Bernard was _not_ wrong, let me tell you.

March was quiet, more or less; we finalized sabotage plans and Jack gave me the longest most gruelling tour of anywhere I have ever been on. Everyday it was a new room and every other day it was time to redecorate. Jack had grown accustomed to the reds and greens; but some places were too red and green for his liking. His personal quarters, a good multitude of the bathrooms, one of his seven different "offices", that sort of thing.

April was when it really picked up; our first sabotage idea involved distribution. And not just put the presents in the sleigh on Christmas day distribution; it was the distribution of supplies throughout the whole workshop! A shortage of any supply you can imagine had occurred, and lasted from about Mid-April to nearly August. Tools and such would pop up frozen in a corner, or buried under snowdrifts; that was my part of the shortage. It was very fun.

But by August Jack was fed up. He told me to follow him around and act as his muscle which of course I was obligated to do. He went to all the departments and looked at supply cabinets himself, as I stood behind him and played with icicles and hail to back up his thinly veiled threats. It was _awful_. By September, I told Bernard to call it off.

So had half the department heads.

October rolled around and sure enough, Jack began to think of ways for me to instil fear in everyone on behalf of him. None of the ideas were very good. Not like they were evil. More like they were awful. One of the ideas involved snowballs that followed all the elves around and whacked them when they slowed down or took a break. Funny in theory, in practise not the best—especially with how hot the workshop was; the snowballs melted and a lot of the machinery shorted out. Jack scratched that idea after _that_ incident; the rest of us laughed and laughed about it. I had made the snowballs soft for starters, and Jack had basically done our jobs _for_ us!

October continued with ideas like that; finally November rolled around and I had snow business to attend to. I tried to avoid Jack as much as possible. I had taken, in my spare time at the Pole, to exploring the back rooms of the Workshop. I found a lot of interesting things—outdated toys (apparently the elves had occasionally exceeded production), a room full of cabbage patch dolls, a very old room plastered with half assembled sleighs and sleigh designs lining the walls, and a giant closet that was full of varying Christmas scented candles. That was brutal.

It wasn't until December that I found something that…that really shocked me.

This particular part of the workshop was incredibly empty; I had no idea how deep in I was nor where I had ended up. It wasn't until I turned a corner and saw fresh tracks in the dust that I grew suspicious. I followed them to a large dark room. There were dark shapes crammed everywhere; I felt up the wall until I found a light switch. The room lit up, and I gasped.

The model from last year's meeting of The North Pole Theme Park idea sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by what looked to be booths. I walked into the room slowly, glancing at all of the kiosks. They didn't have signs yet, though scattered around the room were some signs in progress.

I stumbled through the room in shock; I stared at the shapes, the sketches on the walls by each Kiosk. I got to the back of the room, a large group of tables covered with blueprints, schematics and design ideas. I shoved them all aside, growing more and more horrified by the second. I looked up from the desk, hoping for a bit of a respite from the awful things I was seeing before me.

That was probably the worst idea I had had all month.

Why, you may ask? Because directly above the desk was a cork board covered in notes, pictures and plans. Strings went pin to pin, connecting the lines together. I looked at the very top of the board and gasped. NORTH POLE RESORT was pinned at the very top in big, blocky letters coloured obnoxiously in blues and silvers. Jack had finally settled on a name, I thought, horrified.

He was still going through with his theme park plans.

* * *

**A/N-This was going great until ironically, Christmas break! Finally wrapped it up tonight though. Sorry about the length and how short and sweet the ending is. I promise the first half of Year Six will most likely entail more shenanigans before it goes downhill for our heroes! :D**

**Drop me a line! Share your thoughts! Have a question for me? Ask it! Have a question for Jacqueline? Ask it! She'll even reply. Actual Jacqueline! (I'm in a very Frostmas/Crystal Springs World mood today. Yesterday. Since January began.)**

**ALSO for those of you who read Crystal Springs and its sequel, Dark Shadows: fair warning! I changed the title of Dark Shadows to Into the Shadows. I like it better and it's less Johnny Depp Vampire Movie-esque. I hope you all like it, tell me if it works too!**

**So yeah fave parts, thoughts, what do YOU think is gonna happen next!? Share all your thoughts, reviews actually make me write because you are all full of such lovely thoughts and praise it makes me want to write the whole Twelve years in one night, just for you lovelies! **

* * *

**DISCLAIMERS**

**I do not own _The Santa Clause_, nor do I own Bernard, Mother Nature, Jack Frost or any other canon characters mentioned above. I am making no profit off of this, it is purely for my enjoyment as well as that of the readers. I do, however, own Jacqueline Frost. Any resemblance she may bear to any specific person/place/thing is purely coincidental; please do not use her or any of my characters without MY permission. **The Legate concept is also mine; I do not mind anyone using it, so long as credit is given where credit is due.****


	7. Year Six

**A/N-14,206 words sans these blurbs. Sorry for the length, and for the delay! I have the explanation on my profile page, under the PSA and Frostmas Year Six AN. Please enjoy this mess of a year! Here is a previously on Frostmas for your convenience:**

**Previously: **Jacqueline revealed her decision to freeze as a farce. She showed Bernard and they decided to test it on Jack, who seemingly accepted it. Jack made a deal with Jacqueline for bygones to be bygones, so she could stay at the Pole and help him instill some order. Instead she, aided by the Elves, sabotages the Pole, deciding to be Jack Frost in all ways-including the pain-in-Santa's-neck way. Jacqueline takes to exploring the Workshop when she's not following Santa around, and discovers an old area, stumbling upon Jack's secret rooms-and making a shocking discovery.

* * *

**Year Six**

I should have known, reader. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. But it did. The idea was so outrageous I don't think anyone could really wrap their mind around it. But here it was, laid out in front of me, all of the proof I needed that Jack was going through with it and nothing would stop him. I felt my breathing speed up. I backed away from the desk, trying to keep calm. I needed to get out of there and _fast_, before someone came.

Of course, as it usually happens, that's when I heard the footsteps approaching. I turned on the spot, hitting a few small tables, their contents flying as they fell to the floor with a noise that was way louder than it should have been.

"Oh _frostbite,_" I whispered. The footsteps sped up.

"Who's in there?!"

"Oh _double_ frostbite." Jack was coming and I was trapped. There was only one exit and he was headed right to it, I could hear him. I glanced around frantically, for a window or any escape route—and then I remembered. I was magical! I turned on my heel and disappeared silently as the door began to open.

I reappeared facedown in a soft white carpet. I took a moment to calm my breathing, trying to process what had just happened. I moved to get up, sitting on my knees, the white fibres of the carpet bunched up in my fists.

Then I remembered—my room doesn't have carpet. It's hardwood (and a pain to keep clean, honestly. I dry mop one moment and the next thing I know, there's like seven hairballs, chip crumbs and dust _everywhere_). The room with the fluffy white carpet was our living room.

I had just poofed right into the living room, in front of our sofa.

"Jacqueline?"

Add right in front of my parents, who didn't know that I had fake frozen myself, to the list.

"Oh no, Jacqueline…what have you done?" My Mother was agape, a pale hand covering her mouth in shock. Her blue eyes were watery, frantically staring at every part of my face. She registered the cold eyes, the blue cheeks, and I lost it.

"I'm sorry Mom, I'm sorry Dad, I'm so so sorry but I promise this isn't what it looks like, I'll explain later…I'm so, so sorry." I bolted into the hallway, sliding on the tiled floors. I ran up the two flights of stairs to my room as fast as I could, ignoring my parent's questions. I slammed the sitting room door shut, ran into my room, and slammed that door shut. My chest was heaving as I leaned against the door, mechanically clicking the lock. I slid down the door until I could slide no more and sat on the ground.

I brought my hands up to my face, feeling the cold of my cheeks—and the wet?

I realized then, as I sat there feeling tears, my heart racing, the _other_ consequence of fake freezing myself.

I hadn't told my parents.

What could I have done, reader? I couldn't tell them what had happened, I couldn't tell them what Jack was up to…it would break them. But as I sat there crying, _again_, I realized that perhaps I had already begun to break them.

For the short amount of time I was home, it was…unpleasant. The parents thought I was frozen. Winter hadn't gotten a close enough look to see if it was real or not, and I made sure to keep it that way.

As for my siblings…well, they hadn't seen me frozen. The one or two times they saw me prior to February, I was very much my usual dress wearing, warm, snow-loving self. As a result, whenever they heard my parents talking about my apparent freeze, they disagreed about as loudly as they could. It made for a bit of a civil war at home probably all year, which made home…not the best place to be in the meantime. But my only other alternative was unfortunately, the North Pole.

You see, home was awful. But up North it was far, far worse.

Jack was in a little bit of a rage—and I knew it was because I had been lurking in his little secret workshop. The elves were on edge and I needed to tell Bernard ASAP about what I had found. Unfortunately, I never really got a chance to, because at the start of Jack's sixth year as Santa, Bernard noticed that things hadn't added up for the past two or three years; there were a _lot_ of discrepancies. I could not talk to him at all and I was at my wit's end. Sure reader, you're probably right—I could've gone to the Council. But _Santa_ would have schmoozed his way out of it. If you'll recall, my word wasn't in good standing with the Council, so why would they believe me on this one? I felt like I was trapped. Everything seemed to be falling apart.

And by February, everything _did_ fall apart.

* * *

It wasn't until February when I was finally able to corner Bernard.

I had memorized his daily walkabout schedule; it was a little after noon. In a few minutes Bernard would be leaving R&amp;D and heading over to Construction, passing by Naughty and Nice as he went. I placed myself in front of the Naughty and Nice Centre leaning nonchalantly, waiting for him to pass by so I could intercept him and finally tell him about Jack's stupid theme park. As I waited, I noticed some peculiar movement on the upper floor. I focused, looking up at the second level.

Santa had appeared and was currently standing at the apex of the stairs, staring down at all of the elves hard at work. I crossed my arms, my eyes fixated on him, wondering what it was he was waiting for. I almost missed Bernard, I was staring so intently at Jack. Thankfully, I saw the signature curls out of the corner of my eye. I stuck out my arm, stopping Bernard in his tracks.

"Jacqueline, now is _really_ not the best time. I'm a little busy. If it's about that thing you wanted to tell me—"

"Well it _was_, but this is a bit more pressing. Look," I said, nodding towards the top of the stairs.

Bernard followed my line of sight and sighed. "How long has he been up there?"

"A little while now. He hasn't said anything, he's just been kind of…staring down here."

"That can't be good. What's he waiting for? Why doesn't he just stop us and talk, like a _normal_ Santa?"

I scoffed. "Because Jack _isn't _a normal Santa."

More and more elves began to notice Santa staring down at them, silent. Gradually they slowed down, glancing at Santa; eyes searched for Bernard, and seeing their head elf stopped and watching Santa as well they followed suit, until the whole Workshop was silent. He waited a bit before finally smirking.

"Well it is about time! That took much longer than it should've, don't you think?" Santa asked a young elf behind him. She nodded quickly, backing away. "See? She agrees," he said to another, very confused elf. Jack cleared his throat. "Well, no matter. Any stragglers out there?" he shouted.

Silence answered. Even the machines had stopped. Everyone was staring at Santa expectantly.

"Good. Well then, I'll just get straight to it, shall I? I noticed that things around here have gotten a little…" he walked down the stairs, index finger trailing down the railing until he reached the landing, finally finding the word he was looking for. "Slack. That's the word. A little _slack_. There seems to be a very obvious lack of discipline. Last year's workshop wide sabotage attempts were evidence enough, of course," He glanced in my direction. I raised my eyebrow. He glanced away, continuing. "And now, it appears that the little saboteurs have found their way into the area I strictly said was off limits."

Bernard looked surprised. "There's an off-limits area?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you about," I said quickly. "I found it and—"

"There's an off-limits area?" Bernard repeated louder, cutting me off and slicing through the din of murmuring, whispering elves.

"Yes, Bernie, there is an off-limits area. I made it clear to everyone!"

Bernard looked thoughtful for a moment. "Uh, no. You didn't."

"Yes I did!"

"Well you see _sir_, judging by the surprise coming from just about everyone—_including me_—I'm going to take a wild guess—and this is just a guess, mind you—and say that no, you didn't tell anyone about this off-limits area."

I snorted. Bernard's dry retort had left Jack completely flustered. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. It was beautiful.

"I—where's my note taker? CURTIS!"

If the elves were confused before, we were all even more confused now. The crowd cleared as Curtis walked towards the stairs, his face bright red. He had a large notebook in his hand, a pencil in the other. He shuffled forward towards the stairs, looking up at Santa's malicious smile as he walked down the rest of the steps, meeting Curtis just before the first step.

"Yes Santa, right here," he said breathlessly, turning redder by the minute.

"Did I not tell everyone about the off-limits area?"

"Well sir," he began, flipping through the pages, "you told me about it but according to my notes you never actually _said—_that is to say—you didn't quite—"

"Well come on now, get to it," Santa snapped, thick, frozen eyebrow raised.

"You never actually told everyone!" Curtis blurted out, covering his mouth with the notebook.

Santa looked angry for a moment, then quickly regained his "good" humour. "Thank you, Curtis," he said through clenched teeth, waving the elf away. Curtis backed away, a wall of slightly angry elves blocking his escape.

"Better late than never, I suppose. As you all know _now_, there is a forbidden part of the Workshop. I've taken a few rooms to work on some of my own… personal projects. And it would seem that somebody…" His eyes briefly glanced in my direction, before sweeping the workshop once more. "May have taken a detour or perhaps, gotten lost on their way around and entered my studio."

I snorted. Studio my frosty behind!

"I can assure you that if you fess up now…well, I'll go easy on you," he said smiling, his arms open wide. "In fact, that goes for everyone! Whomever came into those rooms, and whomever began the sabotaging last year. It won't be as bad if you tell me you did it _now_."

Everyone was silent. The elves who had come up with the ideas looked nervous, trying to make themselves as small as possible. The elf at the front of the group took off his hat, wringing it through his fingers. He glanced at Bernard. The arch-elf shook his head ever so slightly.

"Nobody? Really?"

Still, silence.

"Wow. I really thought that would work," Santa said, his arms falling to his sides in defeat. "Tell you what," he said, beginning to climb back up the stairs. "I'll give you a day. A whole day to fess up. A whole twenty-four hours, since you're being so shy. Before, oh I don't know," he stopped on the landing of the stairs, glancing at his watch. "8:00 tomorrow evening, how's that sound? I like it, just after supper time, a few hours to wind down and what have you."

Everyone glanced at everyone, confused and…scared. Really, really scared. I wish I could describe his tone to you as vividly as I remember it. He sounded chipper, delighted even. But there was some malice lurking just below the surface, a cold glint in his eyes where the jolly should be, that everyone could sense.

And it was _terrifying_.

"Alright! It's settled then. If those responsible for trespassing and the sabotage come see me and tell me tomorrow night by eight, I won't be that strict. If not…" he finished his walk up the stairs, stopping on the landing of the second floor. "Well, you'll all know tomorrow by eight. We'll all meet up right here in our lovely workshop and talk about what's next. Understood?"

Everyone nodded.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you."

"Yes Santa!" Everyone said at once.

"Better. Alright, get back to it, go on," he said, disappearing down the hallway.

Nobody moved for a few minutes. Not until Santa had disappeared from view. That's when all the elves turned at once and rushed to Bernard.

"Bernard what do we do?"

"He's on to us!"

"What if he freezes us?!"

"What if he _fires_ us!?"

"I can't afford to lose my job, not with this economy!"

"And what do we do about _Curtis_?"

They pushed closer to him, slamming Bernard right into my side.

"Alright elves, that's enough!" he shouted. Everyone stopped moving, stepping back a bit. I shoved Bernard off of me.

"Ouch."

"Sorry! Your hair was making my face itchy."

Bernard rolled his eyes, then looked at all of the elves.

"He's not going to freeze us. And he's not going to fire us, this is our _home_. He can't do that. Nobody will lose their job, and Joey, if you could please put Curtis back down? Thanks. This isn't his fault. It's nobody's fault."

"If it's anyone's fault it's mine," I said. "I'm the one who—"

"It's not your fault either, Jacqueline. Look, no matter what he does or what happens, we will get through this. _All_ of us. As long as I'm here, I'll make sure nothing happens to you. _All_ of you. We have a whole day. And we get a lot done in a day, don't we?"

The elves nodded, their smiles returning, cheeks sparkling.

"I'll figure this out, alright? We'll figure this out. Just get back to work, take it easy and don't worry. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to us!"

The elves smiled, temporary placated. They trusted Bernard with their lives; to be quite honest, so did I. Do, in fact. I trusted him then and I still trust him to this day. Needless to say, they shortly dispersed, going back to work—though still, a little weary. Only Curtis and a few stragglers were left, including the original pranksters.

"We need to figure something out," Bernard began. "Curtis, come here. You said you were taking notes for Santa?"

"Y-yeah. It wasn't on purpose! He asked me to do it."

"That's fine, Curtis. I'm not mad. He is our boss, after all. Now how long have you been his note keeper?"

"The past…two or three years probably? Give or take a few months." He shrugged.

"Coincidentally, the files from the past two or three years are all missing."

"Bernard!" One of the pranksters spoke up. It was Mason, who was still fiddling with his had in his hands. "I'll go turn myself in. It's all my fault he got so angry. I started the pranks, me and my friends. I'll turn myself in on behalf of all of us," he said, gulping.

"That won't be necessary Mason."

"But Bernard I—"

"No, no buts." A few of us giggled, myself included. Bernard took a deep breath and pinched his nose. "Don't turn yourself in. It won't make it easier. Whatever Santa's planning, it's probably been in the works for a while now. It doesn't matter if you turn yourself in or not, so please don't. I'm going to figure this out, okay?"

"But I'm the one who got him upset!"

"Did you enter the forbidden rooms?" Bernard asked, making literal air quotes around the forbidden part.

"Well…no. I didn't know they existed."

"That was me," I said, finally finding a chance to speak up. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about! I found those rooms and—"

"Okay, here's the plan," Bernard said, interrupting me.

"You could have at _least_ let me finish."

"Jacqueline, you know where these rooms are, right?"

"Yeah. In the old workshop. I can show you where. Listen though, about the rooms—"

"Okay. Mason, don't turn yourself in. Jacqueline, you don't do that either. Mason, you and your team go lay low. Keep doing what you're doing; _do not turn yourself in_, okay?"

"Y-yeah. Sure, Bernard," he said.

"Good. Now get going, we've got a lot to do."

They left, Mason glancing back. Curtis began to leave too.

"Not you Curtis," Bernard said, grabbing his collar. "You're with me. You've got all your notes from the past few years, right?"

"Well of course! It's sensitive information, I wasn't just going to dump it with my personal books and such!"

"Great. You go grab the notes from your diary shelf—"

"Hey!"

"—and then meet me in my office. We have to figure out what he's doing. Jacqueline, meet us there in about an hour and let me know exactly where the rooms are and then tell Judy; she'll be able to get the word spread very fast. Curtis, let's get going."

"But Bernard, about the rooms—"

"Later!" He said, already across the workshop floor, Curtis running to keep up with him.

"It's always later!" I said, hitting the railing of the Naughty and Nice center. "Ouch!" I shook my sore hand, gently rubbing the knuckles.

Fine. If Bernard was going to keep putting me off, then I'd go and do my own snooping.

I glanced up the stairs to the corridor that led to his office.

It was time for a little brother-sister chat.

* * *

Jacqueline opened the door to his office, making her way to his _good_ sofa.

"Yeah sure, come right on in," Jack muttered, frowning at his desk.

"I believe your words were _me casa es tu casa_ or something along those lines, were they not?"

"That didn't mean _go ahead and enter my rooms without knocking, Jacqueline!_ What is with you and privacy? Is it not a concept you understand? Seriously, it's concerning!"

"You need to chill," she said, laying down on the sofa, booted feet on the armrest.

"I invented chill, first off," Jack began, getting up and stopping by her feet. "Secondly, get your dirty boots off of my couch." He pushed her feet off of the armrest. It was a linen couch and linen was _not_ easy to clean. Not that he'd be the one doing it, but still.

"Alright, alright, no need to snap." Jacqueline pulled her boots off and threw them on the floor, putting her fuzzy clad feet back on the armrest.

Jack took a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. That's better than nothing. Now what do you want?" He said, making his way to the armchair across from her.

"I came to get some answers," she said nonchalantly.

"Really now?"

"Yeah. What's up with the sudden show of force?" She asked.

"It's gotten fairly lax down here, and I'm tired of nobody taking me seriously."

Jacqueline snorted. "Not take _you _seriously? What? That's _crazy,_" she said.

"That's exactly my point! I was serious back on the floor too, you know. It has gotten a little slack around here and it's time I did something about it. No more mister nice guy."

His sister frowned. She looked confused, and quite frankly that didn't help Jack's current dilemma. What was it, you may ask? Well, Jack needed to demonstrate force, show that he was the boss (a feat that was hard to do when you lacked your immense powers), especially after someone had seen his studio. Those plans were confidential and if any of those elves saw what he was doing, word of the Resort would have been out by now—but it wasn't. And since it wasn't, he could rule out the Elves, leaving his suspicions solely on Jacqueline. To top it all off, he _still_ wasn't sure If Jacqueline really was frozen—he just wasn't buying it. All fingers pointed to her…but he also needed her because she had his old powers, and he needed those to make this Resort work.

So, he was in-between a rock and a hard place. Or rather, a giant iceberg and a little flurry that was fast becoming more of a blizzard.

Jacqueline recovered quickly. She snorted. "And how do you plan on enforcing discipline, hmm? You can't really do anything," she finished, laughingly.

"But _you_ can," Jack said. He scrutinized her, watching her pale.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come _on_ Jacqueline, you know what I mean. You are, after all, Jack Frost. You've got all the _ice_ and the _freezing_ and the _snow_." He couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"I know," she said, smirking. "I know full well. You want me to throw a little snowball here and there? Ice cubes? Personal blizzard clouds? Ha, that would be funny," she got up, sitting on the couch now. "Like rain clouds, but with snow?"

"It's not that funny."

"When you really think about it, it is."

Jack thought about it. She was right; it was a little funny. "No it's not."

"Whatever," she said, laying back down. "It's funny and you know it."

Jack sighed, leaning back and crossing a leg. "Now back to the situation at hand," he began, once more watching her closely. "Those are small ideas. I was thinking bigger."

"Imagine Bernard stuck under his own little blizzard. Now _that_ is funny," she said.

"Okay fine, _that_ is, but we're not doing any personal snow storms! Look, I've been thinking hard about this. I think I might get you to build a dungeon."

"I'm sorry?" she said, sitting back up. Jack watched her carefully. She raised an eyebrow, confused once more. She had paled again, too. "A dungeon? In the North Pole?"

"You heard me."

She laughed, though it sounded forced. "There's no dungeon in the North Pole!"

"Well Jacqueline, that's why you'd build one!"

"That is a lot of effort I would prefer not to exert."

She was quite pale at this point. Jack frowned.

"Well, perhaps you're right. I wouldn't want to threaten the structural integrity of my Workshop. What's so funny?"

"I imagined your dungeon causing a sinkhole in your workshop."

"That's not funny."

"It is to me!"

"You are insufferable."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Whatever," Jack scoffed. "So perhaps not a dungeon. Hmm, what can we do?"

"We?"

"Well of course. I can't do much."

"Right, because you don't have powers right now."

"Not because of that! And-and I do have _some_ powers." _Focus, Jack_, he thought. _She is purposely pushing your buttons. She knows it and you know it. Don't let her get to you_.

"Like what?"

"That's not what's important right now. The reason that I can't do it is because I'm their boss! I _am_ Santa, and I can't have them fearing me more than they fear you."

"I—what?"

"They're all kids," Jack said, ignoring Jacqueline. "Well, sort of." At this point, Jacqueline looked visibly concerned. "Look, when kids are naughty what do you do?"

"Give them coal?"

Jack resisted the urge to stare at an invisible audience. "Not like that! Like I mean if you're parenting—"

"What would I know about parenting?" Jacqueline asked. "I'm only nineteen hundred and five, what would I know about kids? Wait, is that right?" she began counting on her fingers, her forehead furrowed.

Jack resisted the urge to snort. "You stop counting after a while, you know," he said. "Now as for the punishment thing—"

A knock on the door interrupted his thought. With a heavy sigh, he answered. "_What?"_

The door opened, and a young elf nervously clutching a ball of wool—perhaps what had once been a hat—came into the office. "Uh hi Santa—sir—uh…"

Jacqueline sat up, shock on her face. Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing at his sister briefly. Did she know something about this elf?

"Well don't stand there, come in! Have a seat, have a cookie. Jason, right?"

"Mason, actually."

"Right. Larson. Now what can the man in the red suit do for you today, hmm?"

"I didn't get cookies," Jacqueline muttered, watching Jack give the plate to the elf.

"You didn't _knock_," he said.

"Uh…thanks, sir," Mason said, taking a cookie and holding onto it.

"Of course. Now, what can I do for you? Did you come with some information for me? Betrayal in the Workshop at the North Pole, I love it," Jack said, laughing.

"Uh, not…not quite," the elf stammered. What was his deal? Jack glanced at Jacqueline, who was staring at the elf intently, shaking her head. _Oh, _Jack thought. _Was this the saboteur Jacqueline had encouraged?_

"Well go on, you can tell me," Jack said, as sweet as he possibly could.

"I came…to turn myself in."

Jacqueline stifled a gasp; Jack pretended not to hear it.

"Well that was very good of you. I meant what I said, you know. Now what did you do?"

"I did the sabotaging. The missing tools."

"Anyone else help you?" Jack asked. He stared at the boy, noticing his eyes flick briefly towards Jacqueline.

"N-no. It was all me."

"Well thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome? Uh, how much trouble am I gonna be in?"

"I told you Jackson—"

"—Mason"

"I would go much easier on you if you came and told me. So, I will. I'm thinking a little bit of a time out. You need to step back and you know, _freeze_ a little, and think about what you did. Tomorrow at 8, you'll meet me on the Workshop floor—the Upper one, so everyone can see—and we'll tell everyone what you did and show all the other elves what will happen if they misbehave."

"A time out? That's it?"

Jack shrugged, pursing his lips. "…yes. Now go on you, and you enjoy that cookie. Go on, shoo now Jason."

"It's uh, it's _Mason_," he said carefully, quickly getting up and stumbling to the door.

"Remember, 8 o'clock sharp!" Jack said, picking up his drink and sipping the steamy beverage.

"Of—of course, Santa," he said, stumbling out of the room. The door shut; Jack glanced at Jacqueline over his cup, watching her reaction. She was as rigid as an icicle, staring at the door in disbelief. _Interesting_, Jack thought. The idea had formed in his mind; he was sure by tomorrow he would know where her alliances lay, for lack of a better term.

"Something wrong, Jacqueline?"

She cleared her throat. "No, I'm just confused is all. Are you really going to punish him?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, he fessed up," Jack shrugged. "You're naughty, you get punished. It's as simple as that."

"You and I _both_ know he didn't do it."

"Well A, I can't quite give you a time out and B, those sabotage attempts were much too organized to be just you, Jacqueline."

"Well what's _that_ suppose to mean?"

"There is a lot of discontent for the new boss up here, so it's no surprise that while you were sabotaging some of the elves went and joined you. And anyway, I have to use _someone_ to start making things a little more structured around here, and it would make a lot more sense if it was one of the tiny yes men, don't you think?"

Jacqueline looked shocked. Just as Jack had hoped she would; the kicker now was if she would agree to his plan, or not. Then come tomorrow, he could figure out how to deal with her if his suspicions were correct, and she really was just pulling a fast one over him to gain access to the Pole and tattle on him.

"I have no words," Jacqueline said at last.

"Well that's a relieving first. Now, back to our conversation before we were so _rudely_ interrupted."

"A time out was your answer?" she asked, incredulously.

"With my own creative spin on it," Jack said, grinning. "Tell me Jacqueline, have you ever taken a foray into the world of ice sculpting?"

* * *

I ran through the workshop at breakneck speeds, my mind racing. I was trying very hard not to hyperventilate; going to investigate on my own had been both a blessing and a curse. Really more of a curse, I figured, as I ran through the Workshop.

Jack's time out wasn't just a time out. He wasn't planning on sitting Mason down on a chair, waving a finger and saying "bad!" and making him think about what he did for a while. No, he was literally gonna freeze him out.

Jack had decided that to scare the elves, he would have me freeze one of them, just like that. I was shocked and had to cover my frosty butt fairly fast. The whole time I was talking with him, Jack had been closely scrutinizing me, and with this fake freeze it was rather unnerving. I was starting to think that perhaps he wasn't as easily fooled as I thought he was.

Needless to say, once he explained the ice sculpture thing, I had to keep calm and tell him fine, I'd be there and try to freeze the elf. Mason. Then as soon as I could, I escaped the office and right away went to find Bernard.

I ran through the crowds, my mind racing, when I smacked right into another elf. A pile of boxes went flying, and both of us fell.

"Watch where you're going!" I snapped.

"I could say the same to you, you know."

"Oh, Judy! Sleet, I'm so sorry…I'm a little on edge." I offered her a hand, helping pull her up. "Let me help you with those boxes."

"Oh, no need!" she said cheerfully, waving her hand. The boxes stacked themselves and flew right back into her arms. "And thank you for the apology. What's wrong?"

"I—well I was just talking to Jack and I…did you see Mason come through here per chance?"

"He just went by on his way to talk to Bernard."

"I—alright, at least they're all in one place. Are they in Bernard's office?"

"Yup!"

"Thanks Judy," I said, deciding to walk this time.

"Jacqueline…what's going on?"

I paused, lost for words. "I…Mason turned himself in."

Judy gasped. "Oh no!"

"Oh yes. And…oh, everything is a mess!"

"Anything I can do?"

"I don't think so but thank you, really. Just keep this on the down low for now, if that's alright. I don't know what Bernard's gonna do once I get to him and tell him what's happening."

"I think I can do that. If you and Bernard need anything, just let me know!"

"Actually, on second thought, yeah, you can do something for us. Can you get the word around, that the forbidden rooms are in the west section of the Old Quarter?"

"Of course! I'll make sure everyone knows about the forbidden rooms, but not about Mason. You take care Jacqueline, okay? I'll bring you a nice hot cup of cocoa later, you look like you could use one."

"That would be very nice actually, thanks Judy. Really," I said, appreciative.

She curtsied, and with a nod we parted ways—myself at more of a speed walk this time, until the corridors were empty enough that I could run again, my thoughts back to their chaotic bouncing.

* * *

When I finally reached Bernard's office door and opened it wide, I was incredibly frazzled and very close to tears.

"Bernard!"

"Jacqueline? What's wrong?"

"Everything. Mason turned himself in."

"We know, he told us."

I blinked, and noticed that Mason was standing a little way away, his hat back on his head—but fairly wrinkled. Curtis and Bernard were pouring over several notebooks. Files marked 1998, 1999 and 2000 sat open on the desk, a few pages of Bernard's script shining fresh on some of the papers now in the files.

"It's just a time out! That'll be embarrassing at most, in front of the whole workshop, but not that bad," Curtis said.

"Though you shouldn't have turned yourself in. Now Jacqueline, what's wrong?"

"He's not going to give Mason a time out. He's going to _literally_ freeze Mason."

That caught everyone's attention fairly quickly.

"What?"

"He wants me to freeze Mason. Turn him into a statue. Oh my god, he wants me to freeze Mason, and the _Resort_ and…" I started hyperventilating. I had to sit down; my heart was racing and I couldn't stop it. Everything was a mess and falling apart I was a mess and he wanted me to _freeze Mason_ and I—

"Jacqueline." Bernard's face was in front of me. He was on his knees, holding my hands lightly. "Listen to me, okay? Can you do that?"

I nodded, still hyperventilating.

"Okay, good. Just listen to my voice. I need you to take a deep breath in with me, okay? Breath in, good…now keep breathing in for 1…2…3…4. Okay now hold that breath for 1…2…3…good, now exhale for 1…2…3…4…5…6…7. There. Now do it again, okay? Good. Just keep doing that. I'm here, it's okay…"

Bernard's trick worked fairly well. By the fourth count, my mind was fairly calm.

"What was that?"

"A structured breathing technique. I do it all the time. It's suppose to help calm your mind. Did it?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"Alright. Do you wanna go sit on one of the couches now?"

I nodded, taking Bernard's offered hand. I picked the seat closer to the desk and sat down stiffly, right on the edge, facing the three elves at the desk. Bernard leant against the front, staring at me. Mason was off to the side, fairly pale. Curtis had scrap paper all over him and stood behind the desk, peering at me over his glasses.

"Let's start from the top, if you can Jacqueline?"

I nodded. "I went to talk to Ja—Santa, and see what was up with his little hissy fit. Then Mason turned himself in, and Jack said it would be a time out. Once he left, he asked if I could freeze him in an ice sculpture, a la Narnia."

"Oh my gosh, he's going to _freeze_ me?"

"No. I'm suppose to do it."

"You're gonna freeze me?!"

"I dunno! I don't want to! But I don't know if we can figure a way around this!"

"You could just say no!"

"I can't! If I do he'll know that this," I said, gesturing to all of me, "is a farce, and then I won't be able to keep the Council updated." Not that I had been recently. It had been a little bit busy, to be honest.

"Bernard, what do we do?" Mason asked.

"It's too bad we can't take Mason and push him somewhere else," Curtis said.

"Maybe we can," Bernard said.

"What?" all three of us said at the same time.

"I wasn't serious," Curtis began.

"I know. But maybe we _can_ move Mason." He stood up, excitement in his eyes. "Jacqueline, can you make a big show of freezing Mason?"

"How big?"

"Big enough that if Mason were to suddenly disappear, it wouldn't be noticed."

"If we practice then yeah, absolutely."

"Good. Here's what I'll do. Once you whip up that storm and make a show of "freezing" him, I'll teleport Mason out of there, and into my office."

"How are you gonna do that?" Mason asked.

"Like this," Bernard said, staring at Mason, eyes narrowed. He disappeared in a shower of colourful sparkles, and reappeared on the other end of the office.

"Ahh!" Mason said, spinning around. "Ahh! I got from there to here! How did you? What did you? _How_?!"

"As Head Elf, I have a lot of tricks up my sleeves." Bernard said.

"They are fairly big sleeves," Curtis said.

"Teleporting others is one of those tricks. Usually I have to touch someone and teleport with them to do it. But I can occasionally move them like I just did to you: with a look and very concentrated magic," Bernard explained, ignoring Curtis' comment. "I simply think of where I need to be, and then redirect the thought to another person and then they teleport instead of me. It requires a lot of finesse and is actually a little exhausting. But I think that would be easier than me teleporting into the snow to grab you and then teleporting back out right after. There's less of a chance of missing particles that way."

"I would prefer to keep my particles together, thanks. I think I'm gonna be sick," he said, turning green.

"Not over there please, there's a trash can right here and a bathroom down the hall."

Mason booked it to the trash can. Bernard turned his attention to me. "What do you think?"

"I think you are brilliant."

"Thanks. Now there's something else you said that is a little concerning. You mentioned a resort?"

I took another structured breath before beginning. "The forbidden rooms. I found them, and went into them. And inside of them…there's all of these plans, and kiosks, and a giant board with the words NORTH POLE RESORT in big letters. He's doing it, Bernard. He's going through with his theme park plan."

Mason threw up again. Curtis squealed, nearly falling over. Bernard blinked.

"Well, that's not surprising," he said. "It actually explains a lot. As it turns out, we were actually overstocked with wood earlier last year. There was a paper shortage last month, and a lot of over supply going on that nobody could explain. Now, after reading Curtis' notes, and having you tell me what you saw…everything seems to make sense."

"Even the airline!" Curtis shouted, going through his notes like a madman. "And the print machine! I can't believe I missed this," he said, disappointed.

"I can't believe you did either. But I think we all missed it, being so preoccupied with sabotaging him and all."

"The Council won't let this happen," Mason said, leaning by the trash can.

"They shouldn't," I said. "But he hasn't been going. I haven't had a chance to tell them anything either because Santa hasn't confirmed it. It would just be more of the "Jack Frost is losing her mind" spiel and overall pointless. More important to me was telling you, Bernard."

"I should've listened to you earlier Jacqueline. But what's done is done. He hasn't confirmed it yet so we can only assume that he'll either be telling us soon, or that we still have time. So for now, we'll focus on saving Mason. Then, if he reveals his plans to us…well, we'll just have to wait and see," Bernard finished. He tried to say it confidently, and he did, though his voice did crack briefly at the end of it.

Unfortunately he was right; we would just have to wait and see.

* * *

Punishment day came much too fast.

I had practised all night, with Mason and Bernard once or twice, so I knew what to expect when Bernard poofed Mason out of the storm, and when to stop. We didn't know if this was going to work or not. We just had to hope.

_I _had to hope.

"You okay?" I asked Mason. We stood quietly on the balcony as the Elves assembled on the Workshop floor. Bernard was on the floor, making sure enough people were accounted for that Jack would think it was everyone (they weren't going to stop the entire workforce just for one ten-minute spiel from Santa, even if it was early in the year).

"All things considered, I'm doing alright. Please get my nose right."

"Ha. I'll…try." Elves. Of _course_ they could easily make light of something this terrifying.

The loud clicking of boots approached us; instantly, everyone was silent. Jack appeared on the Upper Workshop floor, approaching Mason and I. He stared down at the elves, his terrifyingly bearded face smirking. "_This_ is more like it!" he announced loudly. "Everybody already here, no waiting. Excellent."

"Well it would help if you announced these things," I said, crossing my arms.

"I—oh, hush, you. Now then, we have quite a bit of important information to get through tonight! Let's begin with the saboteur." He grabbed Mason by the shoulder and pulled him forwards. "This young boy came to me right away to fess up, wasn't that nice? Unfortunately for him, sabotage and trespassing are still naughty things and of course, naughty kids need to be punished," Jack said, chuckling and placing his hands behind his back. "I've decided that a little time out is in order." He grabbed Mason and positioned him directly in front of the stairs, so that everyone could see what was about to happen. Mason paled, gulping.

"Now don't look so glum! It's just a time out. Let's see a smile, hmm?"

Mason smiled, albeit painfully forced.

"Excellent! Jacqueline, if you please." Jack stepped back, grinning. I took a deep breath and stood across from Mason. I glanced briefly at the floor; Bernard nodded, focusing on Mason. That was my cue.

I unclenched my fists, conjuring small streams of snow. I threw them above me, willing the snow to go faster and get bigger. With a wave of my hand, a north wind blew in, swirling the snow all around Mason and myself until the mini storm blocked us out, a snow tornado leaving white out conditions from all viewpoints. I heard the gasps of the elves as the wind picked up and stray snow flew about.

I stared at Mason. _Ready?_ I mouthed. With a determined look, he nodded, and right on cue as the mini storm hit it's peak, a shimmer of gold in the storm told me that Mason had disappeared, courtesy of Bernard. I felt my face grow cold as I brought my folded hands up to my mouth, gently blowing out a steady stream of frost. I guided the trails of ice into the general shape of an elf, a blast of ice from my palms solidifying the frosty outline. The statue was done, and with a few little points I got the details in.

The storm cleared, the wind stopped, and the snow settled into a pile spread out around me. In front of me stood a fairly detailed statue, opaque and blue, where Mason had once stood, in exquisite detail.

Right down to the painfully forced smile.

I fell down and grabbed the railing for support, the exhaustion briefly winding me. With my inauguration as Jack Frost came a larger amount of power than I had previously held, and I was still unused to it. An act like this was fairly draining.

And that fake smile was…I had no words for how it made me feel, nothing to compare it to but a painful stab right to the heart.

The silence in the Workshop was _dead_. All of the machines had stopped; you could scarcely hear any moving. Not even a breath. It was still, the dry wisps of ice from the statue slowly creeping down to the Workshop floor and edging outside wherever there was an opening. Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. It was deafening.

"Wow," Jack finally said, breaking the silence. He walked up to the statue, knocking on the face. "_Wow_." He looked at me, the briefest of surprise in his eyes, before he turned back to the crowd. "Now wasn't that something?"

I pulled myself up, using the banister as a support. Everyone on the Workshop floor was quiet. Afraid. Jack had done it.

And I had helped.

"A Time Out," Jack began, lending a certain importance to the phrase that gave it capitol letters. "That is the new punishment for any elf who steps a single belled toe out of line. Especially this year, since we'll be making a few changes around here. Elves, this will be our very last year making and delivering the toys."

Everyone was shocked. All of the elves talked at once, confusion amongst themselves. No more toys? What did he mean no more toys?

"I know you're all shocked," Jack said, cutting through the noise. "But I can assure you, there is a good reason. From now on, instead of bringing gifts to the children, we will be bringing the children to us!"

"Sir, the SOS! You can't just do that!" Bernard spoke up, angrily.

"Well, I mean, I _am_ the last S of the SOS. It's my secret, is it not? And secrets don't make friends, Bernard, do they?"

"The Council already told you not to!" he shouted back.

"_The Council already told you not to_, bleh bleh _bleh_ who _cares_? Not me. Now shut up, Bean pole, you're confusing the elves." Jack reached a control panel, gently touching one of the buttons in an almost loving way. "Allow me to clear things up, hmm?"

He clicked the button, and instantly thousands of pamphlets fell from the ceiling. They littered the floor, the elves picking them up and reading them, aghast.

"The North Pole Resort! The genuine Santa theme park! No more phony mall Santas, no more dirty chimneys or violent pets. No more fattening cookies; now, they will come here. You'll find all of the details in those pamphlets, of course."

"The Council already vetoed this idea!" Bernard protested, racing up the stairs. "You can't do this, Jack. They'll find out and they'll put a stop to it."

"Au contraire. Perhaps it's best for everyone to know, actually. I've put the Pole under Lockdown." Everyone gasped; Bernard paled.

"You can't do that!" Bernard said. "That's only for when the North Pole is in grave danger!"

"My _business_ is in grave danger, Bernard! And I very well can do it. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I. Am. _Santa_," he said, right up in Bernard's face by now. The two glared at each other, noses almost touching. "And I already _have_ done it. In fact," he said louder, with more bravado so the elves could hear, "Elfsburg has been under lockdown for the past three days now! Nobody comes in, and nobody gets _out_. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," Bernard spat back, defiant.

"Good. We will be giving free tickets with every gift this year, of course. We're set for a Thanksgiving 2001 opening which should give us ample time to prepare. I already have preliminary plans drawn up, numbers crunched, etcetera. We'll focus more on that come mid-March, I think. Now then, back to work! The sooner we finish these toys, the better."

He hit the master switch on the control panel, all of the machinery starting up again, and left. Bernard and I stood as frozen as Mason's statue.

"Well, now we should worry," he said.

"Lockdown? Did he say Lockdown?!"

"Yes, he did."

"I can't be trapped here with him, I can't be…" and leaving Bernard in a pile of pamphlets, the Workshop in chaos, I chased after Santa, still shaking from the exertion it took to stage the freezing, as well as his reveal of the Resort. And perhaps most of all, the Lockdown.

I was trapped and I did not like being trapped.

_Especially_ not with Jack.

"Hold on there, brother," I said, finally catching up to him. He was smiling. Like, an actual happy smile.

Which was terrifying after just orchestrating the freezing of an elf.

I felt like sleet, even though Bernard had whisked Mason to safety. Jack did not know this, and he…he was happy about what had just happened. Happy that he had just potentially ended the life of an elf. That _I _had just done that for him.

I could've killed Mason.

I breathed deeply, trying to keep my composure.

"How can I help you, Jacqueline? Is it about the Resort?"

"No, the Lockdown. You're seriously keeping me trapped here?"

He rounded on me and stopped suddenly, resulting in me crashing right into his fluffy clad self.

"A minor setback, really. When I originally instituted the Lockdown, I had my doubts about you, you know."

"I—excuse me?"

"I didn't think that your freeze was genuine, of course! How could I? It just didn't make sense."

I blinked at him, my jaw wide open. "I—_what_?"

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," he said.

"There's no flies up North," was the only thing I was able to say.

"Whatever. Anyway, I figured if I kept you here I'd be able to tell if it was true or not. But let me tell you Jacqueline, I'm convinced."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well I never thought you'd agree to freeze the elves! I figured you would say no. Let me tell you," he began, laughingly, "I was surprised when you agreed to it! And now that you've actually done it? Well, I don't think I have any more doubt."

"So then why keep me here?"

"I'll need your help preparing for this Resort. Decorating, plus the airport…" He began mumbling a list, continuing his walk. "I can't do all this if you're out and about all willy-nilly. Also, just in case you're _that_ good."

"Hold on, let's back track here," I said, rushing to catch up with him. "Let's say theoretically, I was faking it. How would _that_ have convinced you?"

"Because it's something _I_ would've done. And you did it."

I halted in my tracks, the full impact of what he had said hitting me.

"We'll chit chat later Jacqueline, I have a lot to do!" And with a smile and finger guns, Jack left.

I stood in the hallway, motionless. The sounds of the chaos of the Workshop dulled before disappearing completely, nothing but a white noise as the world faded out from me and I realized that yes, Jack would've done it.

And I _had_ done it.

I _was_ turning into Jack.

The emotions of the day got to me pretty fast after that point. I had no idea how long I stayed put, but the next thing I knew I was tearing through the Workshop blindly, looking for Bernard.

It was chaos._ I_ was chaos. Everything was a mess. I somehow ended up in his office, but of course he wasn't there. Jack had left the Workshop in turmoil. It would be a long night for Bernard.

I left the Workshop. Somehow, I ended up outside. I walked until I reached Bernard's house. I stared at the door. Knowing he wouldn't be home, I knocked anyway. And when I got no answer, I simply teleported in, a bad idea really considering how distraught I was. Thankfully, all my limbs came with me and I preceded to make my way to his small kitchen, still in a state of shock.

I pulled off my vest and threw it on a chair, starting the water for hot cocoa. I opened his cupboard searching for cocoa, and found a brandy decanter. I pulled it out with the hot chocolate mix and found the biggest, tallest mug. Every movement was mechanical. Somehow, I managed to sit myself on the chair with the spiked cocoa beside me. I drank numbly. I refilled over and over.

I have no idea how much time passed; I wasn't thinking. I didn't wonder why Bernard had instant cocoa, being an elf and all. Nor did I realize that I had just broken into his house.

Eventually, I heard a key click and the door open, lights turning on. I lifted my head from the table just as Bernard entered the kitchen. He jumped, briefly, but aside from that had no reaction.

"Did you just break into my house?"

"I broke in…sometime ago. I don't know." Then it hit me. "Oh my gods I broke into your house I am so sorry I—"

Bernard waved off the apology. "It's fine. I was wondering where you had disappeared to, to be honest. You left fairly fast, and with the place in chaos. It's quite shocking I'm even home at all, really. What a mess," he finished, reheating the water and joining me at the table. He picked up the now quarter full brandy decanter. "How much have you had?"

"Not enough."

Bernard chuckled. "We are completely done for. I checked, and the Pole is locked down. I can't get out. Nobody can. I'm so sorry Jacqueline."

"Huh?"

"I should've listened to you earlier."

I placed my head back down on the table. I couldn't even muster the I told you so that was very much needed. I turned my head to look at Bernard, though I did not lift it up from the table. I didn't have the energy.

Bernard frowned, spiking his own cocoa and taking a sip. "I saw you run after Jack," he began. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I wanted to ask him about the Lockdown. Why I had to be stuck here, too. And…long story short, he…oh goddess of the springs Bernard I'm turning into Jack," I blurted out. The numbness had dispersed, and the floodgates opened.

"I think you _have_ had enough," Bernard said, pulling away the brandy. He scotched closer, a gentle hand on my back. "Tell me what happened?"

I took a deep breath in, bringing the sobs under control, and proceeded to tell Bernard about what Jack had said.

"And he was right, Bernard. It was exactly something he would do and—" I hiccupped, "—'nd I did it oh my god I committed elfslaughter Bernard I—"

"Mason is fine, Jacqueline. I got him in and out in time. And unseen. I saved him. _We_ saved him. He is safe in my office."

"We?"

"Course. You're the one who came to me about it. If you hadn't…well, then you might have actually committed "elfslaughter". But you didn't!" He added quickly. "You didn't."

I lifted my head up off the table, wiping my watery eyes with my sleeve. Bernard frowned, conjuring me a handkerchief.

"Sorry. Right. Using the sleeve is disgusting."

"For snot, yes. For tears, not as much. Still pretty gross though."

I snorted, pretty sure a snot bubble happened.

"I didn't do it. But also, I did. It is something Jack would have done. It was his idea, and _I_ did it!"

"But it was _his_ idea," Bernard pointed out.

I sighed, now completely devoid of any energy. I was just…tired. "It was."

"What would you have done, if it was you in the suit?"

"Just talked to them I guess? I like to think I'd be a better Santa than Jack. I at least wouldn't turn the Pole into a Resort."

"Point being, you wouldn't have frozen them. See? That's the thing. You are not Jack. You're Jacqueline. You think and act differently from Jack, and that's what makes you _you_. You're not malicious or mean. Maybe a little scary, but not evil. And yeah, fairly angry right now, which is justified. I'm furious, too."

"You do a bang up job of hiding it."

"I'm not hiding it. It's just the quiet kind of anger, and not directed at you."

"What are we gonna do?" Jacqueline said, head back down on the table.

"Well _you_ are going to sleep. You can crash here for the night. I mean, you've already made yourself at home," he said, frowning at the now empty decanter and mess of hot chocolate dust on his counter. "And I know you probably won't want to go back to your room."

"Thanks Bernard."

"Hey, no problem Jacquie. It's what friends are for, after all," he shrugged, taking a sip of his cocoa.

Jacqueline blinked. "Friends? We're friends?"

"Why else would I be okay with you breaking into my house? I mean sure, it arose out of an awful situation. Both breaking and entering _and_ our friendship. But the how doesn't matter; what does matter is the fact that we are friends. I mean, I do consider you one of my close friends. I have since…a very long time actually. Not just since this whole Jack as Santa thing began. Probably for as long as I've known you, really."

"Well thanks, Bernard. That really…really means a lot to me." I tried to make it sound really earnest. Excluding the other Legates, I only had two really good friends—one of which was currently…I tried not to think about Elle. It would just reignite my anger at Jack and frankly, I was spent—who knew where she was right now? I didn't. And Bernard didn't even remember her. I shoved the thoughts aside and looked at Bernard. I had always seen him as a sort of mentor, but I realized that he was right. We were friends. It just took my brother forcibly becoming Santa for me to totally realize it. "You're my friend too."

"I assume so, unless you make it a habit to break and enter into the houses of acquaintances or random strangers."

"Ha."

"Do you?"

"I…no, not _really_."

"A discussion for another time, probably. I'll grab some blankets for you out of the closet. You can have my room if you'd like, I'm headed back to the Workshop."

"I'll just take the couch, it's fine. Is it bad over there?"

"Brutal," Bernard said, his voice cracking. "We keep trying to sweep up those pamphlets but they're all over the place. The elves are in a tizzy and to be quite honest, so am I. I've thought about it all day, and since we can't get out, I can't do _anything_."

"We can't even send messages?"

"Nope. All communication is cut off. But maybe…Try your connection with your Mom," Bernard said, a spark of hope in his voice.

I searched for the light blue thread and followed it, and followed it, and followed it, and _followed_ it…it just kept going. I couldn't reach her consciousness.

"I can't find it!" I panicked.

"Describe it to me."

"I find our link, and follow it, but where Mom usually is…there's just the thread. It keeps going and going."

"So the Lockdown disrupts mental connections, too. Gingersnaps! I was hoping we could send Winter a message for Mother Nature like that. We'll have to think of something else—Jacqueline?"

My eyes were open wide, my hand covering my mouth. "Bernard, my connection with Mom is gone. Oh my goddess it's gone!" I looked straight at him. "I never explained to her! And Dad! They don't know what's happening!"

"What?"

"They don't know this freeze is fake. They think I'm really frozen…and now I can't contact them at all, oh no oh no oh _no_—"

"Okay Jacqueline, breathe. Like I told you earlier. Just breath in and hold it—count with me now, that's it. Now release it. That's good. It's okay. Just keep breathing. Keep counting."

Bernard watched as my breathing calmed. He had his hand on my back still. It was keeping me grounded, thank goodness.

"This is not permanent, Jacqueline. Tomorrow we'll begin brainstorming. Don't worry. You'll get out of here, and you'll be able to explain everything to them. I promise."

"Okay. Cool. Tomorrow we'll figure out a plan. Alright." I breathed out once more, standing up from the table.

"Good. Now get some rest, okay? If you need me just call."

"How?"

"Good question. I'll figure that out. For now, just get some rest," Bernard said. I hadn't noticed, but while I was busy wallowing in crippling self-doubt, not only had Bernard managed to talk with me, but he had also already thrown his jacket back on and stood beside me, the fluffiest blankets possible stacked in his hand. "Seriously, if you want the bed take it."

"Seriously, the couch is fine. Thanks Bernard," I said, taking the blankets. There were one or two polyester blankets, and a very large, very fluffy comforter. "Oh, you have the good kind," I said, already wrapping myself in the comforter.

He smiled. "Take care Jacqueline, okay?"

"I'll be fine. Especially with these blankets." I offered a small smile.

"I thought my pep talk was pretty alright too," he said, only sort of offended.

"It was. Thanks, Bernard," I said, hugging him quickly. "But I love me some good blankets," I continued, jumping over the armrest and landing on the soft couch, wrapped in all of the blankets.

"I'll let you know when we can meet up tomorrow. Goodnight Jacqueline," he said, headed out.

"I'd say goodnight back but I don't think your night is going to be all that great and I really don't want to disillusion you."

Bernard outright laughed. "It's the thought that counts," he said, the door closing behind him.

I snuggled deeper in my blanket cocoon, sighing.

"Also, if you feel up to it, could you please clean up the mess you made in my kitchen?" Bernard said, the door opening once more, his head peeking in.

"I do what I want," I replied sleepily.

Bernard rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Jacquie."

The door closed behind him for sure this time, the lock clicking confirming my thought.

My eyes grew droopy, the full exhaustion of the day catching up to me. I fell asleep, thinking with the smallest amount of hope that tomorrow, we would figure something out.

Little did I know how problematic our solution really would be.

* * *

I woke up with my hair in a state of half frozen, half thawed, and a giant tangled mess. I spat some of it out of my mouth, sitting up. I was tangled in all three blankets, a pillow I didn't remember sleeping on falling to the floor by the glass coffee table. On the coffee table sat a still warm mug of hot chocolate, and what looked like a grilled cheese. There was a note beside the plate. I picked it up after attempting to untangle myself (which ended with me trapped in one of the blankets by the feet, on the floor). I read it quickly. It was from Judy. Apparently, Bernard had sent her with breakfast and told her to tell me to meet him in his office at noon, hopefully—though that part was written in brackets. It seemed like things still hadn't quite settled down. I stretched, my shoulders cracking, and yawned.

"Yuck," I said out loud. My breath was awful. My head was also a little sore. It would've been a lot worse were it not for the pillow which had somehow gotten there.

I sat on the floor, still semi-wrapped in the blanket, trying really hard to not think about how uncomfortable it was sleeping in a pencil skirt. It was up to my thighs now, and all sorts of tangled. I had one shoe on—I probably passed out before managing to kick off the other one. As I munched, I reread the note, and noticed the post-script. Judy had placed the pillow under me.

"What a sweet elf," I mussed out loud, finishing the sandwich and chugging the hot chocolate. Side note: do _not_ try this if you are _not_ a winter sprite. It _will_ burn your throat.

I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was almost one. The note had said hopefully, so I took that as initiative to take my time. I fully untangled myself, folding the blankets and placing them on the arm of the couch, straightening the cushions I had messed up. I trudged to the kitchen and threw my dishes in the sink. I glared at the cocoa dust and decided I was a decent friend, and cleaned it up like Bernard had asked. I also decided that I should probably at least clean the plate and mug, too.

Once those were washed, I explored his bungalow until I found the washroom. I glanced at the mirror and sighed heavily. I didn't have my brush so, hoping for the best, I used my hands as a comb and refroze the brown parts of my hair. That made the mess a lot less messy. I fixed my skirt, untwisted it and my shirt, hunted down my vest and my other shoe and once I decided I was well put together, began to head over to Bernard's office.

Thinking of the office door, I closed my eyes and opened them, now just in front of Bernard's office door. I knocked lightly.

"You in there B-Man?" I asked.

"Yeah, just come in," he said. I opened the door and stepped into his office, nearly tripping over his paper filled bag.

"Ouch," I said.

"Sorry. I left it there yesterday and to be honest, I don't really want to pick it up."

"What's in it?"

"Resort pamphlets."

"We could just burn your bag," I offered.

"No! I like that bag."

"It was just a thought," I said, walking into the office and taking in the surroundings. Bernard stood at his desk with Curtis and Quentin, as well as Mason. They were looking at several maps. I wandered over and wedged myself into their circle. "So, what did I miss? Also, sorry for being late. I overslept."

"I thought so. Yesterday was quite the day for you," Bernard said. I glanced at Mason, who offered me a small smile.

"Doing alright there Jacqueline?"

"My head hurts and my brother is turning the North Pole into a Resort, but aside from that I'm alright. You doing alright?"

"Well my head is fine and the chill is gone, and since I am very not an ice statue, I think I'm alright. Thanks, Jacqueline."

"Don't thank me, really."

"Well I appreciate you telling us right away what Santa's plans were and _not_ freezing me."

"He has a point."

"Thanks, Curtis," I said, dryly.

"And your head wouldn't hurt as much if you hadn't had all that brandy," Bernard said.

"The worst is I don't even _like_ brandy."

"Then why do you always drink all of my—you know what, never mind. Quentin, want to catch Jacquie up?"

"We've been brainstorming for the past hour about ways to bypass the Lockdown. After many experiments, we have concluded that while teleportation is doable within the dome and within Elfsburg, we cannot teleport past the Dome onto the surface of the North Pole."

"The Dome just protects Christmas magic. It shouldn't have an effect on the Lockdown. At least, I don't think so," I murmured. "I'd ask Winter, but…" I let out a frustrated sigh, holding my head.

"It's just the line of the border Santa's lockdown has set," Curtis explained. "We can't break the dome, though. That would be very bad."

"I am well aware," I said. "So now what?"

"Well, Mason suggested we tunnel under it. We tried to see if we could dig a hole, and sure enough we can. We decided that perhaps our best option would be to tunnel under the Dome and out into the surface like that! Which then reminded me of the old tunnels the Pole use to have."

"Old tunnels?" I asked.

Quentin nodded. "Elfsburg has a massive amount of underground tunnels, that were used by the elves before us to travel anywhere with secrecy, ease, and very fast if needed."

"The only issue now," Bernard began, "Is that we'll have to check to see which tunnels are still workable, and where they lead. They're ancient, and a lot of them have probably collapsed. Or disappeared, if they were originally made with magic for the former elves."

"And that's what this map is," I stated, pointing at the one on top of all the paper.

"Exactly! Now, Bernard and I both agree that we can't spare that many elves to search, or Santa will get suspicious. So, it will most likely just be the five of us. That is, if you'd like to help, Jacqueline."

"I'll do my best," I said. "Once we find which tunnel leads out, what happens next?"

"That's when it gets a little complex," Curtis began. "We don't know how far these tunnels go. It's most likely that the Kringle Elves used teleportation, or an elf ring to get to where they needed."

"Except that elf rings are usually only one way tickets," Bernard pointed out. "Otherwise, anyone could follow them back to Elfsburg easily."

"Well excuse me for not being politically correct, I'm only nine-hundred you know. I wasn't around with the Kringle Elves."

"Nor was I," Bernard counter-pointed.

"Now, now children," Quentin said, to the dismay of Bernard and Curtis. I giggled. "Back on topic, shall we? Since those circles are most likely dead ends, because even if they did work they would only be one way, and they probably won't work _because_ of the lockdown. It protects the Pole, from people trying to get _in_ as well."

"So we would be trapped _outside_," I realized. Still better than being trapped inside, in my opinion.

"Whichever tunnel is closest to the Dome, farthest from the Workshop, _and_ the least damaged as well as most structurally sound, is the tunnel we'll start digging out from."

"Now what happens when we hit the Dome?" I asked.

"That's where you come in. We'll need to find a way to get through the Dome, without threatening the Pole more than it already is."

I exhaled. "Okay. Sounds good. I'll see what I can do. When do we begin?" I asked.

"In the next few days, I hope," Bernard said. "While everyone has mostly been either placated or resigned to the fact that for now, we can't _do_ anything, there's still a lot to try and figure out. Once I calm the rest, we can get a few volunteers and hopefully cover more ground then just us five could. There's at least fifty tunnels."

I frowned, grabbing the map. "Well then, you take care of your Number One Elf business. I'll start hunting down these tunnels."

"I'll help too!" Mason said. "I already told my family that I was fine. Santa won't be expecting me to work since I'm technically an ice statue, so I'll put all of my effort into finding an escape route."

"Sounds like a plan," Bernard said. "We'll meet up again as soon as we can."

* * *

Soon wasn't as soon as we would have liked. We met up again two weeks later, and began our full tunnel crawl in March. Mason and I had found a central tunnel, after I got over the awkwardness of working with someone I had just sort-of-frozen. The central tunnel became our base; we had set up a workstation with a large version of the map printed out, marking up where each tunnel ended and began.

Sure enough, old faerie rings (or elf rings, as I was so corrected over thirty times at _least_) were at the ends of most of the tunnels, and they did not work. We had debated one of us stepping in the circle, but all five of us feared, _hoped_ that they would work and we would be trapped outside wherever they lead us. So instead we threw some pencils, and when none of them disappeared in any of the circles we found, we concluded that they were dead.

Some of the tunnels had normal exits; these led from one spot in the North Pole to another, and became our way of getting in and out without being seen leaving the Workshop and marching out into the Elfburbs every day. Finally, by June we had searched all the tunnels and found the one closest to the Dome.

"Five kilometres out," I said. "That's the closest we can get."

"It's the best one, all things considered," Bernard replied. And of course, he was right.

Meanwhile, the transition in the Workshop was…incredible. Three fourths of the workforce were working on toys, while the remainder of the workforce was beginning to shape Jack's Theme Park vision. The kiosks and signs had made their way out into the workshop floor, mixed amongst the toys. Merchandise was slowly appearing as well, the elves working on the dancing Santas near tears. I didn't blame them.

This just doubled our efforts. If we could tunnel out before November, we could maybe still put a stop to this thing—or so we hoped. Oh, how we _hoped_.

But let me tell you, by July, I was losing my mind.

We were tunnelling through—we had covered about one kilometre or so. It was just us five with the occasional two helpers from R and D down there with us, digging as best as we could. Bernard and I had tried blasting through the ice—that hadn't worked out well. Bernard almost caused a structural collapse and I couldn't do anything without accidentally injuring someone with stray ice.

From April onward, Jack had had me give Time Outs to a few other elves, who were now part of our tunnelling workforce. On this particular day in July, however, it was just the original four: me, Bernard, Curtis and Mason. Quentin was in the Workshop—R and D was a little short staffed since Jack had recruited them to help make the airport. And then proceeded to have half of them _frozen_.

"I hate this," I said, digging.

"You're not alone," said Curtis.

"This is back breaking," Mason said.

"But if we don't do it then we don't have a _chance_ to save the Pole," Bernard reminded them, determined and still going at the ice walls.

I groaned and threw down my shovel. "If I was just outside the Dome this would be so much easier! I could just _blast_ through it without worrying about the "structural integrity" of the tunnel. This is the _worst_!"

"How would digging form the outside help? Once you hit the tunnel you'd still have to be careful," Bernard said. He had stopped at the digging, wiping his brow with his hat and leaning on his shovel.

"Once I got closer to you guys, yes. Absolutely. But this way we'd have people working on _both_ ends."

"It could work," Bernard said thoughtfully. "You would just have to find a way out of the Lockdown."

"Well, there goes _that_ idea," I said, getting back to it. Digging in a skirt was hard; the lockdown prevented me from teleporting home to change, or magicking a new set of clothes from home over. I was stuck with just this ensemble and my pyjamas. It was _brutal_.

"Not quite," Bernard said thoughtfully, grinning. "I think you _yourself_ may have a loophole. Why didn't I realize it before?"

I was intrigued. I stopped digging, staring at the Head Elf. "What's your loophole?"

"Santa can grant a pass to anyone to get through the Lockdown, since he can come and go and nobody else can. Maybe you could get him to give _you _one."

"How? He needs me around or he can't freeze the elves, or whatever."

"You're Jack Frost."

"Yes, in title."

"_Exactly_."

"Oh. _Oh_. I see where this is going."

"You can start by saying a Legendary can't trap another Legendary. That would be a good reason to come and go. If he finds a way around that, then use your job. If you're stuck here, how is anyone anywhere suppose to get their first frost? First snow?"

"Oh my _gods_ how did I not notice that?"

"S'okay Jacquie, I didn't notice it either. It wouldn't hurt to try."

"What about you guys?"

"Well since our workforce has nearly doubled, we should be fine if we tunnel at night. I can deal with sleep deprivation, and the others can sleep during the day. If it's too risky to sneak home, we can set up a camp back at the base. What do you think Jacqueline?"

I really wanted to help the Elves, but I wanted to get out and finish this dang tunnel more. I grinned, leaning my shovel against the wall.

"I think I'll give it a go. I've got a fair amount of leverage on my side," I said, wiggling my fingers, a snowball appearing.

Bernard grinned, catching my drift. "Do your worst," he said. "Good luck."

* * *

And my worst I _did_.

It was late July when I finally caught Jack for a moment.

"What can I do for you, Jacqueline?"

"I'm bored and I want to leave."

"Oh, let me think about that…hmmm…" he ran his hand over his beard, frowning. "Ah…no."

"Come _on_ Jack, I'm not your little sister."

"Yes you are!"

"You don't need to Santa sit me, really this is absurd. I'm Legendary too, you know!" And with that, I dramatically stomped off, Jack watching me go with an eyebrow raised. A trail of ice grew in the wake of my footsteps, several elves slipping, North Pole Resort merch flying everywhere.

This was going to be a lot of fun.

* * *

My next attempt was at the very end of July, beginning of August.

"You know," I said, sliding beside him at the Naughty and Nice center, where he was tinkering with one of the printers. "You can't keep another legendary prisoner," I said.

"I think I can. I mean, look at _you_."

"No. I mean, I'm pretty sure there's rules for it. You can't keep me locked _up_ here because all Legendaries are equal in status, remember?"

He slid out from the machine, starring at me. "It maybe rings a bell…the real question is, do I care?" he frowned, tapping the wrench against his bearded chin. "I don't," he said, sliding back under the printers.

"Ugh, you're being stubborn!" I said. I let out a huge breath, my face turning blue. The printer console began to freeze over, everything stopping. Jack hit his head rolling out to avoid the frost.

"What the tinsel, Frost?"

"Let me out."

"No."

"Fine!" I said angrily. I conjured a snowball and threw it at him. "You stupid face!"

He spat out the snowball as I walked away. "Ha! A snowball? Really?"

I stopped, turned around and grinned as the snow collected, forming a cloud that sat right above Jack's head, beginning to snow.

"You didn't."

"I _told_ you it was funny!"

"It's not!"

It was. And the unfortunate elves who stood near him that he caught giggling thought so too. And then proceeded to be put in Time Out.

And the snow cloud didn't disperse. It kept going.

* * *

August was fairly regular, after that.

"Make it go away."

"Let me out."

"No."

"Fine then, guess you're a blizzard, Santa."

"Please get it _off_ my head!"

"Let me out of the Pole!"

"No!"

"Then you'll just have to wait it out!"

"And how long will that take?"

"Well, since I've been cooped up here for a while, not letting any storms form, it could be a few days. Weeks. Months." I shrugged.

"I _hate _you."

"The feeling is _mutual_!"

* * *

The cloud disappeared late September. Jack was in much better spirits, though I made sure that didn't last long, come October. I spent a whole day following him around, just being annoying.

"Let me out."

"NO."

"Let me out _please_."

"No!"

"Let me out _pretty please_."

"The physical appearance of the please makes no difference, Miss Frost."

"Well I didn't want to have to do this to you but I guess I'm gonna have to bring down the book," I said, as we stopped at a table _filled_ with dancing Santa's.

"Excuse me?"

"Section 43 of the Magical Law Collectives states that no Legendary can seize and keep another Legendary under duress without the consent of a majority of Council votes. Failure to abide will result in termination."

"You sound like Curtis."

"You're illegally keeping a Legendary captive, let me _go_."

"Do you really think the _law_ is going to stop me? I'm Santa. I AM the law!"

"No, you're not. Batman sort of is, depending on the depiction of course. Not _Santa Claus_."

"Jack Frost isn't the law _either_," Santa said, glaring at me.

"So you're not going to give me a free pass? I know you can. I know you can get in and out whenever you want and I know you can grant that to whoever else."

"Nope. I'm not. You're trapped here, missy."

I feigned hurt, letting out an offended _uh!_

"If that's the case then fine," I said. I breathed in deeply and let out a frosty breath. It coated the dancing Santas, freezing them in their dances, sparks flying.

"Not the dancing Santas!"

"Oh yes the dancing Santas!"

And with that, I turned on my heel and left Jack speechless.

* * *

November was when I finally kicked things up a notch, like Bernard had suggested.

"You keeping me here is preventing me from doing my magical duties," I said one morning, stalking him throughout the Workshop. The place was covered in plans and some partially finished kiosks.

"How."

"Your walls may look fabulous, but the world does not. Currently it looks very green, and that's not good. It is in fact downright disgusting. Who would want a green Christmas?"

"Hmm, oh I don't know, maybe every country near the equator? Hawaii, perhaps? _Australia_?"

"I mean places like Canada. Or like Sweden. Currently North America, actually. Ontario is set for their first frost this week. Winnipeg is already expecting snow. The Southern states could use a good scare, I think a light dusting should do the trick. But guess what? I can't _do_ any of that while I'm here in this short dump!"

"Wow," Jack said, gesturing at the offended Elves. "You really are at your wit's end, aren't you?"

"Yes!" I said, exasperated. "I'm losing my mind. I've transcended stir-crazy. What does the world look like?!" I said, dramatically feigning a faint and leaning on the closest kiosk. "I don't know anymore. Mama, is that you? I'm sorry there's no snow, your eldest child won't let me frost because he is a…is a…a…cotton headed ninny muggins!" I shouted.

The elves around me oohed. You bet half of them got frozen later.

"You know what, just for that, I'm not granting you clearance. I was going to, but I changed my mind." He said, stomping away. He then turned on his foot and stomped back, leaning down to stare right into my just as blue eyes. "And I am _not_ a cotton headed ninny muggins!"

I raised my eyebrow and leant back, staring at him as both my hands turned blue and landed on the kiosk behind me.

"Don't you _dare_," he said.

I widened my eyes and let the frost go. The kiosk froze solid, a big block of ice standing where it once was.

"Let. Me. Out." I said coldly, glaring at him as the wisps of dry ice drifted off of the kiosk.

"_Never._"

"You asked for it," I said. And with that, I pushed the kiosk over. It hit the floor with a sickening shatter, now several big chunks of ice with smaller crystals scattered around the place. "Your move," I said, walking away. My heels clicked loudly. I felt like a total badass. Best exit ever.

* * *

Finally, in December, I did it.

I had frozen several more kiosks, broken the ticket machine and ruined the t-shirt maker. I had set Jack behind by at least four months. But, Christmas rolled around, and the presents were all ready, all the tickets printed and set to go with the presents. I had one last card to play, and waited by Jack's quarters to deal it.

"Oh. It's you," he said.

"Yes, it's me. I cannot believe you are doing this!"

"Not letting you out?"

"Yes, but also no. I meant the green Christmas."

His smile faltered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's a green Christmas everywhere, _Santa_. No snow, no nothing. Such a shame."

Jack was quiet as I followed him to the sleigh; nobody was celebrating, like they usually did. It was more like a funeral. The last proper Christmas. The last sleigh departure. We got to the sleigh, and Jack turned to me.

"You got me, Jacqueline."

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't have it be a green Christmas. You can go."

"Really?"

"Come and go as you please, really. What the heck, it's Christmas. Go on, make it snowy! Make it magical. I think everyone deserves a white Christmas, don't you?" he asked the elf tending to the reindeer. She merely glared.

"You're letting me out? You're granting me free passage?"

"Yes. You can come and go as you please."

I felt a literal pressure leave my back. I felt like something that had been surrounding me, pushing me down, had been lifted. As Santa left in the sleigh, the elves watching, I glanced over at Bernard, surprised. _Did you do it_? He mouthed. I could only nod. He smiled; it lit up his face—he had _hope,_ something I hadn't seen on him in months.

"Go on, try it!" he shouted over the elves that had heard the exchange and were beginning to chatter excitedly.

I teleported. In a flurry of blue sparks and snowflakes, I found myself outside of the Dome.

I was _free_.

* * *

**A/N-You can see my full author's note on my profile, I think this chapter was long enough. Thank you for reading it! What do you think? Are they DOOMED? Is there hope? You'll see come Year Seven :D. Please please PLEASE do review! I cannot begin to tell you how much going back to these reviews helped me keep writing Year Six and getting over the hump. I look very forward to your thoughts! And thank you all for your patience :D**

**PS-The breathing trick is legit. Try it, it works wonders.**


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